


Journey to Deliverance, Sequel

by ReidFan



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-05 22:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12199044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReidFan/pseuds/ReidFan
Summary: this story picks up where the Journey To Deliverance left off. Reid has been released from prison, conquered PTSD and has rejoined the BAU. His mother is in a local assisted living facility and Reid is now working on reclaiming his professional life and establishing a personal lifeRated K for the most part, M in later chapters, will be clearly indicated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Sequel to Journey of Deliverance

  
CM 

 

(Reid/OriginalCharacter Grace O’Halloran)

 

Author note: Not overly familiar with the US legal system, I’m taking the liberty of allowing the defendants to appear via video uplink like they can here in Canada and basing the court scenes on my experiences with US television. All mistakes are my own.

 

A big huge thank you to my conscience and support, Aut, giving it her all and putting up with my Canadian spelling; and to Droogie for nursing and character input. 

 

Criminal Minds belongs to CBS/ABCStudios/MarkGordon etc etc. I’m just borrowing their premise and their characters. 

 

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“Trust is the glue of life. It’s the most essential ingredient in effective communication. It’s the foundational principle that holds all relationships.”- _Stephen Covey_

 

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 _‘Landing in about half an hour. Are you up for a visitor tonight?’_ Grace O’Halloran read the text message and hastily stuck her cell phone back into her pocket as she moved into the first floor linen room and collected some towels from one of the shelves. Taking the phone out of her pocket, she typed in a quick reply, ‘ _At work ‘til 10,’_ before shoving the device back into her scrubs.

 

She grabbed a basin and soap and made her way back to the patient’s room and set up a sponge bath for the first of four on her list tonight. An hour later, she emptied and washed out the basin and walked into the last patient room. Diana Reid was sitting up in her bed, her precious scrapbook in her hands and she was leafing through its pages when Grace opened the door.

 

“Hi, Diana, how are you tonight?” Grace greeted her, as she set the fresh towels down on Diana’s little table and proceeded to the tiny en suite bathroom with the basin.

 

“Are you setting up a sponge bath for me, Grace?” Diana called.

 

Grace poked her head out the door and asked, “Is that okay?”

 

“I’d really rather take a shower tonight, Grace. I need to wash my hair.”

 

“Oh, okay then,” Grace agreed and set the basin down, picking up the towels instead. She handed them to Diana, a silent signal that it was time to take the shower and Diana complied immediately. 

 

“You all right by yourself, Diana, or will you want me to help you?”

 

“I’m okay,” the older woman confirmed. She made her way into the bathroom by herself and Grace sat down to wait for her. Sitting on the countertop that spanned the length of the room's outside window, were several potted plant and floral arrangements. Spencer had brought them by to brighten his mother’s room. Seeing them reminded Grace that she had purchased items for Diana and silently she admonished herself for forgetting to bring them. After thinking about it for a moment, it occurred to Grace that she hadn’t seen those items in ages. She wracked her brain trying to think of where she’d left them and it finally dawned on her that the last time she’d seen the stuffed animals and the picture frame was on that day she’d dumped the shopping bag on the living room armchair upon hearing that Diana was missing from the safe house. _That was almost a month ago!_ She said out loud.

 

She took her cell phone out of her pocket to set herself a reminder to ask Spencer if her shopping bag had been taken to his apartment when they’d cleared the safe house and saw she’d received two more texts, ‘ _Will be there at 2201!’_ and time stamped fifteen minutes after the first one, _‘um, if that’s ok?’_

 

Grace laughed and quickly replied _‘cannot wait to see you! You’re coming here?’_

 

She put away the phone when she heard the shower was no longer running and rose to see if Diana needed any help.

 

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Spencer Reid closed the book he’d been reading, sat back in his seat and looked out the jet window into the clouds. The team had successfully profiled a serial killer in their latest case and Reid had been instrumental in determining their unsub’s trigger and motive, ultimately leading to his capture and the rescue of the young woman who would have become his fifth victim. Reid glanced around; JJ was on her cellphone likely talking to her husband, Rossi and Lewis were sleeping, Prentiss was engrossed in the endless paperwork that plagued her position as Unit Chief, and near the front of the plane, and Alvez and Simmons were playing cards. He heard the vibration of his iPhone, sitting on the table in front of him and he picked it up to read the incoming text.

 

Smiling as he saw the message from Grace, Spencer quickly keyed a reply: _‘Is that inconvenient?’_ then set the phone back down and reflected on the past few weeks. He’d been seeing Grace for a month now, often meeting for dinner or coffee after she got off work. They’d gone to several movies together, and visited art galleries and museums. He laughed as he remembered that she’d picked him up at the airport after his first case back in the field since his incarceration; a move that had raised six pairs of eyebrows as his teammates deplaned. He’d been greeted by a somewhat restrained hug and his smile widened as he thought about how the team would’ve reacted had they seen the unbridled affection she’d lavished upon him later that evening in the privacy of her apartment.

 

He reached up to his neck to loosen his tie, suddenly feeling very warm as he recalled the events of that particular evening. It was the first time he and Grace had indulged in anything more than chaste kisses. Although they hadn’t yet consummated their relationship, Spencer found himself blushing at the memory of Grace undoing his tie and his shirt and divesting him of those articles. Her fingers had trailed fire along his chest and he realised he was now on the verge of hyperventilating just thinking about it. He exhaled quickly and returned his thoughts to the case, extinguishing any flame of passion the memories of that night had ignited. Looking up, he noticed Emily had been watching him and quickly glanced away when he made eye contact.

 

His phone vibrated again and he snatched it up to check it. ‘ _Never! I have my car @ work today though’._

 

Quickly he assured her, ‘ _I’ll take the Metro and meet you there,’_ set the phone back down, grabbed his book and started reading again.

 

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Spencer closed the door after peeking in at his mother who slept soundly in her bed. It was just before ten p.m. and he wasn’t surprised that she was already asleep. Quietly, he walked back down to the nurses’ station and spoke to Iris for a few minutes. Grace was apparently in another area of the home with her assigned patients for the evening and Iris assured Reid that she wouldn’t be much longer. Every resident except Albert was usually in bed long before ten p.m. and Albert could generally be found in the TV room if he was having one of his late nights. Such was the case this evening and Albert was now awaiting the news on TV, Grace was sitting next to him. One of the night nurses, a particular favourite of Albert’s named LaMarr, was on duty and his arrival was greeted with great enthusiasm.

 

“Well, I guess I know where I’m not wanted,” Grace teased, rising from the chair to give it up to LaMarr.

 

“Now don’t be like that, Missy,” Albert admonished. “You’ve been talking all day about how that man of yours is back tonight!”

 

His voice carried out to the hallway where Spencer stood with Iris who broke into laughter. Reid look questioningly at her as Iris tried to stifle her laugh.

 

“I’m sorry Dr. Reid, but Albert’s right. Grace lights up like a Christmas tree when your name is mentioned.” Reid was looking her in the eye as she spoke and he noticed that Iris’ eyes were focused on something behind him as she continued, “In fact, it’s darn embarrassing sometimes, how she carries on.”

 

“Iris Mulligan! Shut UP!” sounded from behind Reid and he broke into a wide grin as he recognised her voice.  Pivoting, he turned and met Grace’s eyes, immediately drawing her into his arms.

 

“Missed you!” he promised as he buried his face into her hair, breathing deeply to reacquaint himself with her scent before kissing the top of her head.

 

“I missed you too,” she answered, sliding her hands up his arms until she reached his neck and drew his face down to her level to kiss him softly.

 

“Oh, pulllll-llllease,” Iris crowed and made a gagging sound.

 

“You’re just jealous,” Grace shot back as they broke off the kiss and turned to leave, arm in arm. 

 

“You’re not wrong!” Iris crooned back at her.

 

Grace hissed at her, and Iris laughed again, “Have fun, kids!”

 

Shaking her head, Grace bit back a laugh, opened a door and led Spencer down a set of stairs to the employee parking level.

 

“Are you hungry? Have you had dinner yet?” he asked her, knowing full well the answer was going to be ‘no’. She confirmed that, and he suggested they grab a pizza as she pulled out of the parking lot. She nodded and asked him how his case had been as they began the two-mile drive down the DC city street towards her apartment building.

 

“Oh,” he started, biting his lip, “Can we not talk about my work today? Please, Grace? I’d rather talk about you.”

 

She signaled and pulled into a parking spot in front of the pizza shop.

 

“Okay then, what should we get on the pizza?” she asked.

 

“Whatever you like,” he said, taking her hand as they entered the restaurant. “Let’s see. Pepperoni, onions, mushrooms, banana peppers, and black and green olives,” he recalled from memory.

 

Grace smiled, touched that he’d remember her favourites. “Oh, let’s go without the onions this time though,” she requested.

 

His brow furrowed but he placed the order and without onions as she’d asked. 

 

“Can we get that to go, please?” Grace asked the pizza shop employee. To Spencer she added, “I’d really rather take it home, I have wine at home to go with it.”

 

“Of course,” he nodded. After he paid for it, they sat in the waiting area while the pizza was prepared and Grace told him about his mother’s day and remembered her earlier thought.

 

“Spence, is there a small bag from _Macy’s_ at your apartment? One that Anderson might have brought over when they cleared the safe house?”

 

He concentrated for a moment; mentally going over the current layout of his living room and remembering where everything was situated but nothing out of place came to mind. “Honestly Grace, I can’t recall anything, but I haven’t been home much since I was reinstated. We’ve had back-to-back cases, and you and I have spent a lot of time together. I’ve literally only been home to sleep.” He paused for a moment and continued, “You’re working Sunday this weekend, aren’t you?”

 

She nodded.

 

“I’m taking Henry and Michael to the park Sunday morning, but I’ll check around the apartment later for it later.”

 

Half an hour later, they arrived at Grace’s apartment. It was after eleven as she unlocked her door and Spencer followed her in, carrying their dinner.

 

She directed him to the living room, where he set the pizza box down on the coffee table as Grace hurried to her bedroom to change out of her scrubs and into a pair of comfortable jeans and a rose coloured sweater. She moved to the kitchen to get napkins, wine glasses and a bottle of Italian red wine then returned to the living room. As she poured them each a glassful of wine, Spencer opened the pizza box and served her the first slice on a napkin. They ate in companionable silence for several minutes, sipped wine and cuddled on the sofa. 

 

A short time later, after Spencer had carried on a one-sided discussion about red versus white wine for several moments, he realised Grace hadn’t contributed to the conversation about one of her favourite topics. He moved to set down his wine glass and discovered that Grace had fallen asleep; her head nestled against his chest. 

 

Tenderly, he picked her up and carried her into her bedroom. He laid her down on the bed carefully, covered her with her quilt and tiptoed back out to the living room, thinking about how much he’d liked to carry her into the bedroom for another reason.

 

“Someday,” he vowed, smiling at the prospect of sharing a bed and that most intimate of human moments with her. For now, he acknowledged silently, he’d settle for just being with her.

 

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	2. chapter 2

The sounds of sirens outside her window woke Grace up with a start. She sat up in her bed, craned her neck to look out the window to her right and saw the fire truck racing down the road. Her eyes widened as she noted how far up in the sky the sun was.

 

“Dammit!” she swore as her eyes roved to the clock radio next to her bed. It was after ten in the morning. She realised she was still in her jeans and sweater from the previous evening.

 

“Dammit!” she repeated as she hurried out of bed and out to the living room. There was no sign of Spencer. She walked into the kitchen and smiled when she saw the recorked bottle of wine sitting on the countertop. On the drain rack in the sink sat their two washed wine glasses. Next to the sink was a sheet piece of paper, its edge tucked under a small votive.

 

She pulled the paper out and perused its contents: a hand drawn heart with small rays emanating out from its core–glowing happiness, she interpreted—and the words, _‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.’-William Shakespeare._ Under that, a simple smiley face and ‘had to go to work, will call you later, Spencer.’

 

Grace made herself a cup of coffee and opened the refrigerator to retrieve milk. A smile crossed her face when she saw the pizza box on the top shelf. He’d even tidied after their late dinner; she realised and let out a small laugh. This was going to make for some fun conversation at Hetherington’s she thought, savouring the anticipation of telling Maureen and Iris.

 

After she finished the coffee, Grace showered and emerged from the bathroom in just a towel. From her closet, she pulled her most treasured item of clothing; the overcoat Reid had draped on her shoulders the night they’d gone out to dinner after her first day at Hetherington’s. She drew it close around her, basking in the comfort she derived from it; feeling as though his arms were around her. Grace felt the tiniest bit guilty for not returning the coat to its owner but she’d made a habit of sleeping in his coat, relishing the connection to him it afforded her. It had brought her comfort on several occasions, when she knew he was out of town on a case. Enveloping herself in his coat gave her peace of mind and made her feel like he was safe.

 

She allowed herself another five minutes or so with the coat and then carefully hung it back up in her closet and got dressed and ready for her lunch date.

 

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         “I hope you don’t think this is too weird,” Penelope Garcia said as she shook Grace’s hand after the two women had met at the coffee shop in the mall down the street from Grace’s apartment.

 

         “Not at all,” Grace assured her, “I was hoping to be able to meet you. Spence speaks so highly of you. And you were the one that helped lead us to finding Diana when she was missing that day.” Grace reflected on that thought for a moment, and then continued, “Thank you so much for your quick action. Thinking about tracing her personal alarm might have saved her life.”

 

         “Oh no, Grace. May I call you Grace?” Without waiting for her reply, Garcia forged on, “The alarm trace was Reid’s idea, I was just the one who did it.”

 

         “A group effort to save Diana,” Grace acknowledged. Garcia nodded as the two women took seats at a small table and picked up menus.

 

         “Most of our work is a group effort,” Garcia assured her.

 

         Grace had received a telephone call from Penelope earlier in the week. The BAU’s analyst had lamented that JJ and Prentiss had both met the woman who apparently owned Reid’s heart, while she had only spoken briefly on the phone with Grace. And Garcia, who loved Reid more than any other male on the planet—even more so now, with Derek Morgan gone from their daily lives—wanted to know, _had to know_ this woman better.

 

         “I’m so glad we have a chance to meet and have lunch together. But if it’s a group effort, Penelope,” Grace was puzzled, “Don’t you guys have a case?”

 

         “We do. Several actually. But there’s other pressing matters happening today. JJ and Alvez are out doing some background on a case. Tara’s off doing some research for a project. Rossi is doing a consult with the DOJ about something. Must be really hush hush cause I don’t even know what the something is. Simmons needed the day off for something personal at home. And Emily, poor Emily, is wending her way through a labyrinth of paperwork. The price she pays for being Unit Chief.”

 

         Grace’s brow furrowed, “And Spence?”

 

         The waitress arrived with water for both ladies, took their lunch orders and then disappeared.

 

         It was Garcia’s turn to look puzzled.

 

         “He said he was going to work today,” Grace elaborated.

 

         “Yeah. Uh huh. In a matter of speaking. Did he not tell you? Oh dear,” Garcia stalled, wondering whether there was some reason Reid hadn’t told Grace exactly where he was. Her mind raced as she recalled the conversation with Reid and JJ wherein they’d extracted from him a promise that there’d be no more secrets. Should that extend to Grace too? Garcia wondered and then she realised Grace was speaking.

 

         “Well, to be honest, he didn’t _say_ anything. He left me a note this morning. Drew me a smiley face and quoted Shakespeare, and wrote ‘had to go to work’, and that he’d call me later,’” she specified.

 

         Garcia’s heart melted at Grace’s words. She made up her mind.

 

         “The good doctor is in court today.” Garcia held up her hand to forestall Grace’s next question and continued, “He didn’t want _any_ of us to come with him, Grace. This was something he said he had to do on his own. Dr. Flanagan supported his stand, so we all backed off.”

 

         Grace waited patiently for Penelope to fill in the details. Garcia noticed the expectant look on Grace’s face and elaborated.

 

         “He’s testifying against those two goons from Millburn. They’re up on murder charges for killing Luis Delgado. Spencer was a material witness and he was bound and determined to see that Luis got justice. He’s at court today, and wanted to be with Luis’ family for the proceedings.”

 

         Garcia reached across the table to pat one of Grace’s hands.

 

         “I know we all wanted to be there for him, and I’m sure you do too. But he really wanted, he really _had to_ do this himself.”

 

         Grace nodded even as tears filled her eyes. She blinked them away and looked up and noticed that Garcia was also crying. She smiled through her tears. Grace, an only child, knew at that moment that she’d found a sister in Penelope Garcia.

 

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         “Ugh,” Emily Prentiss opined as she pushed away another stack of papers and gave herself a quick neck rub. She pushed her chair back from her desk and rose, intending to restore the circulation to her legs by walking around the circumference of her office for a moment. Drawing back the open blinds, she looked out the window out over the bullpen, the collection of desks belonging to her unit members. Each was unoccupied today, as the agents all had other obligations or duties. Only David Rossi, who also had an office, was even in the building this day and Emily decided she’d see if he wanted to go for lunch—after she checked on the rest of the team, she admonished herself. Pulling her cellphone out of her pocket, she called Alvez and Jareau for their update, speaking to Alvez briefly. Next, she texted Tara Lewis for her update, and then she sent a text to Spencer Reid. Knowing he was in court, she didn’t want to disturb the proceedings and figured he’d return her text when he had the opportunity. That completed, she wandered down the hallway and stuck her head in the doorway of Rossi’s office.

 

         “Lunch, Dave? I’m buying.”

 

         He looked up from his computer, smiled at her and quickly saved his work and logged off. “I’m starved,” he laughed, rising from his chair to join her.

 

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         Carmen Delgado sat in the front row behind the prosecutor’s desk in the courtroom. The murder of her only child had aged her: she’d lost weight, her dark hair grayed and her formerly bright brown eyes were dull and red-rimmed, she was no longer the happy, vibrant woman she’d been before her son had died. She’d already been heartbroken by his incarceration, refusing to believe her son could’ve committed the crimes for which he’d been convicted. Discovering only weeks later that he’d been murdered in cold blood devastated her. And now, she sat rigid in her seat, hands folded in her lap, tissues twisted in her fingers awaiting justice for her son.

 

         Spencer Reid sat next to Ms. Delgado, dressed today in a crisp white shirt and dark suit, the only nod to colour the subdued blue tie he wore. He reached for her hand and murmured words of comfort and reassurance to the distraught woman, promising her that Luis’ death would not go unpunished.

 

         He told her that besides wanting to support her, he was also at court as a material witness. He’d seen the murder unfold before him. His years of experience told him there was likely to be a plea deal, and he explained to Carmen that it was very possible he wouldn’t even be called to testify.

 

         The bailiff entered the courtroom and immediately, a hush fell over the assembled crowd. The legal teams took their places. Reid exchanged nods of acknowledgement with the lead prosecutor and all rose to their feet when the judge entered the room. Reid stifled a gasp when his eyes lit upon Judge Willa Frost, the same woman who had denied him bail all those months ago. He took a deep breath and glanced in Ms. Delgado’s direction, and then everyone was directed to take their seats.

 

         Judge Frost explained that the defendants would be appearing at their trial via video uplink from the Millburn Correctional Institute. The defense attorneys acknowledged this and then indicated they wished to approach the judge, with the prosecuting attorneys in attendance as well. They spoke in undertones for several minutes and Ms. Delgado turned to Reid.

 

         “What’s happening, Dr. Reid?” she whispered.

 

         “They’re probably discussing finalisation of a deal, Carmen,” he told her. Squeezing her hand, he elaborated, “They’d be facing capital murder charges because they’re prisoners, and Luis’ death resulted from a drug distribution crime, and a conviction in either of those scenarios would mean the death penalty.”

 

         Her eyes grew wide and she tried very hard not to cry. Reid hugged her as they waited and finally, the prosecuting attorneys returned to their table, the defense lawyers spoke to Duerson and Frazier via the uplink. After consulting with their clients, the lawyers nodded at Judge Frost and she commanded the attention of the room.

 

         “In the matter of state of Virginia versus Frazier. The charge has been reduced to murder in the second degree. How do you plead?”

 

         Carmen Delgado looked at Spencer Reid and waited for the defendant to speak.

 

         In a subdued voice, betraying the bravado that Frazier had always portrayed in the prison, Carmen and Spencer heard him respond,

 

         “Guilty, Your Honour.”

 

         Fixing her stare on Duerson, Judge Frost continued, “State of Virginia versus Duerson. The charge is second-degree murder. How do you plead?”

 

         Duerson held back sobs as he replied “Guilty, Your Honour.”

 

         In the audience, Carmen Delgado dropped her head into her hands and quietly wept. Spencer wrapped an arm around her and comforted her as the judge deferred sentencing to a future date, thanked the lawyers for their work and dismissed the assembly.

 

         Carmen and Spencer sat in silence in the empty courtroom for a long time.

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         Grace returned Garcia’s hug as the women parted ways after their lunch. Penelope hurried to her car after offering Grace a ride home, which the latter declined. Grace watched as Garcia expertly wheeled her way through the mid afternoon traffic as she headed back towards the BAU’s Quantico office. She waved as Garcia’s car disappeared into the distance and then turned and walked the two blocks home.

 

         Her cell phone sounded an incoming text alert just as the elevator arrived to carry Grace upstairs but she didn’t hear the phone over the sound of the elevator’s arrival. Once in her apartment, she spent the next hour baking cookies and cleaning her bathroom, trying to distract herself from thinking about Spencer being in court. She glanced at the wall clock in the kitchen and noticed it was just after four p.m.

 

         “The afternoon’s flown by!” she realised. Her thoughts shifted again to Spencer and the court case and she dug a hand into her pocket for her cellphone only to come up empty-handed.

 

         For just an instant, she panicked wondering where her phone was, but almost as quickly recalled the last time she’d seen it was when she’d put it away in her purse at lunchtime. She raced to the bedroom and found her handbag on the wingchair and quickly retrieved her phone from its depths.

 

         “Dammit!” she swore as she saw she’d missed two calls, one from Spencer and one from Hetherington’s. There were several text messages as well, and she quickly read through those. ‘ _Thank you again for meeting for lunch. Love you!’_ from Garcia; ‘ _Can you trade a shift with me? I need next Tuesday night off, will trade you for next Saturday?’_ from Maureen, and two from Spencer ‘ _Sorry if my phone call timing was inconvenient,’_ and _‘If you’re still speaking to me, please call me after five.’_

 

         The phone’s home screen indicated it was four-fifteen p.m. Grace wondered how she’d ever last until five to return Spencer’s call and as that thought occurred to her, the phone in her hand rang.

 

         “Maureen! Hi.”

 

         “Hi Grace, hope I’m not interrupting anyone important,” Maureen laughed at her own implication, “but I really need an answer about the shift switch. I called earlier but you didn’t answer. You know Sandy,” she referred to their nursing supervisor, “She wants to be on top of things.”

 

         “You want my Saturday shift, in exchange for me working your Tuesday night next week?” Grace pointedly ignored Maureen’s opening comment, and wanted clarification about the shifts, as neither of them usually worked nights. Grace was new to the Hetherington’s staff and had been told evening shifts were largely the domain of LaMarr and another male nurse, Steve.

 

         “Yeah, Steve’s already doing four nights next week and LaMarr was the reason I was scheduled in the first place. He’s got an exam Wednesday morning at eight a.m.”

 

         “I have no problem with doing the Tuesday night, Maureen. You sure you want _Saturday?”_

“Figured you’d like the Saturday off to be with your good doctor.”

 

         Grace was happy Maureen couldn’t see her blushing face as she acknowledged her friend, “Thank you, Maureen. Tuesday night for Saturday, you can tell Sandy. I have to go.”

 

         She disconnected the call and let out a deep breath. Making her way back into the kitchen, she busied herself putting the now-cooled cookies away in a cookie jar and then tidied her kitchen. Once that was completed, she decided to dust. After that chore was completed, she stole a glance and the clock and grumbled aloud when she noted that it was now four forty-five.

 

         Grace spent a few minutes returning Garcia’s text and reflecting upon her new friendship with her. It was easy to see why Spencer thought so highly of Penelope; Grace didn’t think she’d ever known a more compassionate, positive person in her life. Except maybe for Spencer himself, she smiled.

 

         Finally, the clock showed five p.m. and Grace touched Spencer’s name on the iPhone’s ‘My Favourites’ contact screen. It rang and rang and went to voicemail and Grace clicked it off without leaving a message. Disappointed, she shoved the phone into her jeans pocket and decided to do laundry instead.

 

         An hour later, with the sheets in the dryer and the towels in the washer, Grace poured herself a glass of red wine and sat on her sofa, pulling the phone out of her pocket as she did so.

 

         She toyed with the phone, debating with the idea of whether she should try calling him again. Rationalising, she spoke aloud, “Well he did say to call him after five.” He _was_ in court, she reminded herself. Maybe things were running late. Maybe cross-examination of a witness was taking longer than expected. Maybe the defense attorney was raking someone over the coals. “Oh, what the hell would _I_ know about this?” she rolled her eyes.

 

         Grace held her breath as she touched Spencer’s name on the contact screen again and waited as it rang. And rang. Again, it went to voicemail and again Grace disconnected the call without leaving a message.

 

         She heard the washing machine signal the current load was done and headed over to swap out the laundry. Taking the now dry sheets into the bedroom, she made up her bed and then sat down on it. Tears sprang to her eyes and she wiped them away angrily.

 

         “Stupid. Don’t be stupid. There’s a logical explanation,” she berated herself. Making her way back into the living room, she picked up her wine glass and drained it, then headed to the kitchen for a refill.

 

         Grace fell asleep on the sofa, the sound of the Nationals’ ball game still playing on her TV.

 

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	3. Chapter 3

 

“I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done, Dr. Reid,” Carmen hugged him as she put her key into the front door of her walk-up apartment.   
  
“If there’s anything, _anything,_ else you need or want me to do, please don’t hesitate to call,” he responded, patting her hand as he confirmed, “You have my card, right? My cell and home numbers are on the back.”

 

She held the referenced item up in her free hand after digging it out of her pocketbook and thanked him again, promising him she’d call if she needed him. He held the door open for her as she entered and she turned once more to hug him once again before waving goodbye.

 

He shut the door behind her and made his way down the steps of the building and across the street to the metro stop. Once there, he pulled his iPhone from his pocket and saw that he had several text messages waiting, and two missed calls from Grace. Puzzled that she didn’t leave a message, he texted her immediately, then replaced the phone in his pants pocket.

 

_Sorry I missed your calls. Delayed in court and ran into issues.  You mad at me? Please call ASAP?_

 

He sighed as he swiped his _SmarTrip_ card at the turnstile and hustled through the concourse to his train. After settling into a seat, he retrieved his phone from a pocket and read through the text messages waiting:  Prentiss, checking on his day, JJ reminding him about Sunday morning—needlessly he laughed, as if he’d forget he’d promised to spend some time with his godsons—and Garcia with some cryptic comment about his life. His brow furrowed as he tried to decipher her message ‘ _u got a tru <3 w/Grace I <3 her’ _and he muttered something unintelligible about emojis under his breath. 

 

He checked to see if he’d missed a call and sighed again when he noted a negative. Just as he was shoving the phone back into his pocket, it rang and he lifted it to his ear without even checking to identify his caller.

 

“Reid,” he answered.

 

“Spence?”

 

“Grace!” he recognised her voice and simultaneously felt relief and regret. “I’m so sorry I missed you earlier. I was in court.”

 

“I know. I wrestled that out of Penelope.”

 

He stifled a laugh and continued, “Really. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore your call. I was with Luis’ mother and I just didn’t want to leave her—“

 

“It’s okay, Spence. I understand,” she assured him and at the same time, felt a tremendous relief at his explanation and an even larger surge of admiration for him. “His mom needed you.”

 

He acknowledged this, “She really did, Grace. She’s all alone now. Luis’ father was never in the picture. All she had was Luis. And,” his voice cracked as he spoke, “She’s just devastated.”

 

“Where are you now, Spence?” Grace asked, as an overwhelming need to hug and comfort overtook her.

 

“I’m just on the Metro, on the way home.”

 

Something in the tone of his voice told her he was exhausted and needed to go home to sleep and much as that disappointed her, she understood. 

 

“I’ll let you go then, Spence. You get home safe and have a good sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow?”

 

Stifling a yawn, he thanked her for her understanding and promised to call her the next day. “If we’re done work early enough, maybe we could go out for dinner together tomorrow night?” he ventured.

 

“I’m at work ‘til six, but I’d like that, if we can swing it. Talk tomorrow then, good night.”

 

“I’ll call you, “ he promised. As they disconnected their call he felt a surge of emotion and smiled despite his exhaustion.

 

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He poured more jasmine tea from the porcelain teapot into Grace’s cup and then refilled his own before setting the empty pot back down on the table. A wide assortment of Chinese dishes surrounded them and Spencer handed Grace a plate, inviting her to serve herself from the array before them. 

 

“I don’t know where to start!” she joked, surveying the vast collection. “Did you order one of everything?”

 

He laughed and shook his head ‘no.’ “I know you like almost everything and will usually give anything a try. So, I just tried to represent a balanced meal with a variety of choices.”

 

It was Grace’s turn to laugh. “There are beef, pork, chicken and shrimp dishes. And I know you don’t even like shrimp.” She recognised Almond Guy Ding and Moo Goo Gai Pan, chow mein, fried rice and several vegetable dishes. “Spencer, there’s no way we can eat all this.”

 

“Then we’ll take it home for later. Or tomorrow,” he told her. “Egg roll?” he distracted her with a question, tongs in hand. He put one on her plate when she nodded. They passed dishes back and forth and settled in to eat their meals. Grace discreetly asked the waiter to bring them forks and he did so, placing the cutlery down by their plates. He asked if they wanted more tea and adroitly slipped away to retrieve another pot when Spencer answered affirmatively. Grace opted to use the chopsticks provided and smiled knowingly when she noticed Spencer chose the utensils. The waiter returned and left them another pot of tea, asked if they needed anything else and then smoothly moved away, leaving the couple alone.

 

They talked briefly about Grace’s workday and about Spencer’s workday before leaving those subjects behind to chat lightly about other interests. Grace secured a promise from Spencer that he would teach her how to play chess. He felt his iPhone vibrate in his pocket and when Grace excused herself to use the restroom a few minutes later, he checked the device and found the message from Garcia waiting.

 

_Case in Los Angeles. Emily says convene @ jet 6 am. Alvez and JJ already out there._

 

  He tapped an acknowledgement and put the phone away, determined to spend this time with Grace and he rose from his chair to seat her when she returned.  

 

After dinner, with Spencer now laden down with several containers of leftovers, they left the restaurant and decided to go for a walk. Outside on the sidewalk, several groups of homeless people were congregated: some by the open doorway of a neighbouring fast food place, some next to a stand of bicycle lock rails and three young men by a bench. Reid recalled that particular trio of young men had been there when he and Grace had arrived for dinner two hours earlier. He watched as they politely asked several passers-by for money.

 

The trio, Spencer observed, were in their late teens or early twenties; one was Asian, one was Caucasian, and the one Reid thought to be their slightly older leader was Hispanic and he reminded Reid very much of Luis. Spencer came to a stop, and Grace paused beside him. Their eyes met, Spencer motioned to the bags in his hand and asked an unspoken question. Grace nodded and Spencer approached the homeless trio.

 

“Hey, guys, I was wondering if you could do us a favour?” he asked. The three young men looked at one another and then the young Hispanic shrugged, narrowed his eyes and addressed Reid,

 

“’Sup, man?”

 

“We bought way too much food. I really don’t want to carry it all around. It’s still warm. Would you guys mind, you know, taking care of it for us?”

 

“You want us to hold it for you ‘til you come back?” the oldest of the threesome asked, wary of what motive Spencer had.

 

“Oh heck no. No, I was hoping you know, that you might eat it, share it with your friends.” Spencer held the containers out to the man, and continued, “Please?”

 

The trio looked to each other and nodded, and the perceived leader accepted the containers from Spencer. 

 

“Hey, thanks man,” he said sincerely, dropping the defensive stance he’d been holding.

 

Reid smiled and shook his head slightly, “No. Thank you!” The three men disappeared into the night with their unexpected bounty. Spencer reached for Grace’s hand and they walked together to her apartment. 

 

“That was beautiful, Spencer. How did you know they’d react the way they did?”

 

“Honestly? I didn’t! I just put _him_ in the position of power. I wasn’t completely sure how he’d react, but giving him the upper hand let him make the decision whether or not to help me out.”

 

A few minutes later, they arrived at their destination and Grace released Spencer’s hand to dig her security card out of her purse. She swiped the card and Spencer held open the door once the lock disengaged. Grace stepped through the open door and reached for his hand.

 

“Come on up for a few minutes,” she invited. “I’ll make us some coffee.”

 

“It’s kinda late, Grace. I don’t think coffee’s a good idea—“

 

She rolled her eyes and tugged at his hand, pulling him through the open doorway and led him towards the elevator bay.

 

“I have wine. Or I could make tea,” she punched the number for her floor as they entered the elevator. When the door closed, shutting them off from the world for the seven-flight journey, Grace turned to him, slid her arms up around his neck and nuzzled his throat, “Or I can make you some cocoa.”

 

His arms came up to hold her close against him, stroking her hair as he tilted his head down to rest on top of hers momentarily.

 

“What is it you really want, Spencer?” she asked, her voice taking on a husky tone. Before he could reply, the elevator chimed their arrival at the seventh floor and the door opened. 

 

Spencer released the breath he’d been holding as Grace moved out of his embrace, took his hand and led him across the hallway to her apartment.

 

He shut the door behind them and carefully put her deadbolt and security locks in place. He turned back around to face her and their eyes met. They melted into each other’s arms, kissing hungrily. Grace felt a surge of warmth course through her when his hands made their way along her spine and down over her hips. She pressed closer and their kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and Grace gasped in shock and delight when he suddenly broke the kiss off, stepped back and moved to pick her up. In one swift motion, he carried her over to the sofa, sat down and deposited her in his lap. 

 

He kissed the tip of her nose and said, “What I really want is to just hold you and kiss you and be with you for a few minutes. I’ve missed that. I wish it could be longer, but we have a case out west, I have to be at the airport for six in the morning. I just couldn’t let another day go by without seeing you first.”

 

Her hands splayed out on his chest and she laid her head against him, relishing the moments together. They sat cuddled together in silence for a while and then Spencer moved to disengage.

 

“I really need to get going,” he sighed and dropped a kiss to the top of Grace’s head and then leaned back so they could make eye contact, “But one of these days, Grace. One of these days, I’d really like to spend the night with you.”

 

“I’d like that too,” she returned. They kissed again and she stood by her door watching as he left. The elevator door shut behind him and she closed her apartment door, vowing to make that happen someday soon. Spencer’s coat was retrieved from the closet and she slipped it on as she made her way to bed. 

 

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The sun streaming in through the window woke Grace up the following morning. She smiled as full awareness arose in her, realising she was still cocooned in Spencer’s coat. She buried her face in it, inhaling deeply and reveled in the knowledge that it still carried his scent. Grace allowed herself a few more minutes in the coat before she reluctantly removed it, hung it back up in the closet and set about getting ready for her work day. 

 

Half an hour later, after dressing and having breakfast, she was on her way to work. Noticing it was nearing 9 a.m. Grace figured that Spencer and the team must be in the air on their way out west. She sent a text to Garcia as soon as she’d parked her car in the Hetherington’s lot and then made her way into the building.

 

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“Well my lovelies I have some updated four-one-one for you. Victim number two has been identified. She was twenty-three year old Jessica Monahan, a student who was reported missing by her college roommate when she didn’t arrive home after classes on Monday.”

 

Aboard the jet, the assembled team members Prentiss, Rossi, Reid, Lewis and Simmons pored over their tablets as the information was uploaded. They listened as Garcia continued to disseminate information.

 

  “The first victim was twenty-seven year old Natalie Dixon, found shot to death behind a fitness club near the main campus.” Garcia paused to take a breath before adding, “And continuing the trend of killing young blond women, this morning very early, as you were—or actually still are—winging your way out there, an intern with the UCI PD was found dead in the parking lot of a nearby fast food joint. She was found behind her own car, apparently also shot.”

 

“Garcia, what was the cause of death of the second victim?” Rossi asked.

 

“And where was she found?” Lewis added.

 

“Um,” Garcia tapped at her keyboard, “Sorry. Awaiting official autopsy reports, but she was found—um—hmm—oh, here it is, she was found behind one of the campus residence buildings by UCI PD patrol.”

 

“Hey, Pen, can you contact the locals and tell them to keep this morning’s scene intact for us? We’ll investigate when we get there,” Prentiss directed.

 

“Righto, boss lady,” Garcia acknowledged.

 

Reading through the reports, Reid quickly pointed out, “Looks like gunshot wounds on her too. There’s no report of sexual assault, but,” he grimaced briefly as he pored through the crime scene photos, “there’s definite signs of overkill. That’s anger. The C-O-D says Natalie Dixon died as a result of a gunshot wound straight to the heart. But she suffered numerous shots to the face too.” His brow furrowed as he evaluated the information, “Most of the facial injuries occurred post mortem.”

 

“Thank goodness,” Lewis murmured half under her breath.

 

Following Reid’s train of thought, Simmons swiped through the photos and agreed, “Jessica Monahan’s face is pretty much obliterated by gunshot too. No ballistics match yet but it looks pretty clear to me.” He shook his head in disgust.

 

“He definitely has a type. Young blonde women,” Prentiss reiterated. “The question is, is it _all_ young blonde women? Or is he working towards a specific target?”

 

“Garcia?” Reid asked again, “Do we know what Jessica Monahan was studying? And what about Natalie Dixon? This says,” he motioned to the report on Rossi’s iPad, “that she was found behind a fitness club near the campus. Is she a student too?”

 

Garcia promised to get back to them as soon as possible. The others continued to share ideas as they studied the evidence on their iPads while Reid shuffled through papers.

 

“What have JJ and Alvez found out, Emily?” Rossi asked their chief.

 

“Probably not much more than we already have, Dave. They were in LA on a consult about another case.”

 

Simmons, who’d been engrossed in his files, looked up and sighed. “All young women. All blond. And apparently all connected to the university in some way. Could it be a jilted boyfriend who’s a student too?”

 

“That’s a possibility,” Emily concurred, looking at Reid who was deep in thought.

 

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	4. Chapter 4

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“Emily says they’re about half an hour out,” JJ pocketed her phone and relayed the information to Luke Alvez, who was driving their SUV along the California highway on the way to the airport in Irvine. They’d been in the western state for two days working on another of the FBI’s cases. Their presentation of the profile to the local police department in Oxnard the previous afternoon had resulted in the capture and arrest of a sexual predator later that day by the department’s deputies. 

 

After hearing from Prentiss late in the evening, JJ got in touch with the Irvine police and started the BAU’s investigation, setting up the conference room in the department’s headquarters. She and Alvez had already done preliminary interviews with witnesses and contacted the medical examiner’s office. They had an early breakfast in the hotel’s coffee shop then headed out to rendezvous with the rest of the team.

 

The sun was just rising as they arrived at the airport and found the secure section where the FBI’s jet would be landing. After Luke arranged for a second SUV for the team, he rejoined his cohort in the waiting area. JJ took advantage of the few minutes they had to call her husband; Luke decided to check in with the woman he’d hired to care for Roxy in his absence.

 

The BAU jet landed and its occupants met up with Alvez and Jareau. Prentiss assigned Lewis and Alvez to the latest crime scene and the rest of the team joined Rossi who took the wheel of the second car. En route to the police department where JJ had set up a conference room for them, the team members exchanged information and brought everyone up to date. Lewis and Alvez continued on to the crime scene of latest victim while the rest of the team assembled at their makeshift conference room and discussed their case. 

 

“So. Three young blond women. All within a stone’s throw of the university,” Prentiss recapped. Perusing the medical examiner’s report, she relayed the findings to the others, “Third victim’s c-o-d was also gunshot to the heart. And like the others, also suffered several post mortem shots to obliterate her face. She’s been ID’d as twenty-four year old Olivia Hendricks.”

 

“Student?”  JJ asked.

 

“Yes. But she was grad level. She was interning with the university’s own police department.”

 

“Jessica Monahan was a student too,” Rossi mused. He looked over at Reid and recognised the look on the younger man’s face. “What are you thinking? I can see the wheels turning.”

 

Reid was flipping through the notes JJ had made after the interviews she’d conducted. “According to the roommate, Jessica Monahan was a criminology student. Olivia Hendricks was an intern with the campus P-D. And do we know about Natalie Dixon? Was she a student too?” His brow furrowed as he concentrated. 

 

JJ picked up a file and checked before answering him, “She graduated a year ago and was working part time for a security company and was just hired on by LAPD. According to the fitness club manager, she’s a member there and works out there several times a week, always late at night because of her work shifts and because she preferred the less busy time.”

 

“All three of them have some connection to law enforcement,” Simmons reflected.

 

“Killed quickly with a gun—do we have ballistics?” Rossi asked.

 

JJ handed him a sheet of paper, “That’s the M-E’s report on Natalie Dixon. And then,” she shuffled through some papers and found two more files, “these are the reports on Jessica Monahan and Olivia Hendricks. All three were shot with the same gun. A Glock 22.”

 

Reid’s eyes narrowed at this information. “Police favourite,” he muttered under his breath.

 

Prentiss called Garcia and put her on speaker, setting her phone in the center of the table before her.

 

“You have reached the Supreme Hegemony of Enlightenment and PreEminence. How may I assist you today?”

 

“Hey Pen, can you get us a list of all the male students in the criminology stream at the university here. Current and past five years.”

 

“And those that have flunked out,” Reid added. 

 

“What are you thinking?” Rossi asked him again.

 

“They are all law enforcement related. They’re different ages, not in the same year of study. The youngest one, Jessica Monahan is a first year student, top of her class. The oldest one, Natalie Dixon had already graduated and was just hired by LAPD. And the other one, Olivia Hendricks, an intern with UCI’s own department.” His mind worked faster than he could speak and he tried to rein it in. “The damage to their faces, but without any kind of sexual assault, speaks to anger. But it’s not the kind of anger we see with a jilted lover. I wonder, I think we might be looking for someone who’s been unsuccessful in his or her own attempts at criminology studies or career.”

 

“Not the kind of person you want in law enforcement,” Rossi pointed out.

 

“No. Exactly. But not accepting his or her failure.”

 

“You think it might be a woman?” Prentiss asked.

 

Reid nodded. “Could be.”

 

“Garcia, can you expand that list—“

 

“To include female students. Yes. On it.”

 

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Tara Lewis lifted the tarp from the top end of the body still laying behind the victim’s own abandoned parked car and sighed. The display was virtually identical to the crime scene photos of the two other victims. Members of the local Forensic Unit were busy gathering evidence: recovering shell casings, marking locations, taking photos and fingerprints and Lewis stepped aside to stay out of their way.

 

As a seasoned professional, she was used to the graphic sights but it moved her nonetheless. The campus police officer, Sarah Taylor, who’d accompanied her stifled a gasp and made her way over to the dumpster to vomit. Lewis asked if she was all right and the younger woman managed to nod.

 

“That poor girl is like, _my_ age,” Sarah sputtered, shaking her head and rejoining Lewis, who had replaced the tarp over the victim. Lewis reached over and patted the young blonde cop’s hand. 

 

“I knew this was always gonna be a possibility. We talked about it in class. We’ve even seen photos. It’s just so much more—“ Sarah trailed off.

 

“Stark and graphic when you see it in real time,” Lewis supplied sympathetically. “I want to say you’ll get used to it, but you never will. You’ll get used to how to deal with it and wanting to solve it and get justice for the victims, but you’ll never quite get used to seeing what one human being can do to another.”

 

Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat and met Tara’s eyes, steeled herself and affirmed, “Well let’s get justice for Olivia.”

 

Tara nodded. 

 

The two of them surveyed the area and Lewis took several photos and made notes. She opened Olivia Hendricks’ car door and made another note. Looking around, they could see the restaurant’s back exit, but anyone coming out of that door would not necessarily have seen the body of Olivia Hendricks behind her car.

 

“Hey, Alvez,” Lewis called as she took notice of several cameras mounted along the tops of walls.

 

He appeared from around the side of the building and followed her line of sight, nodding. “I’ll go see about footage,” he told her and disappeared into the restaurant to talk to the manager.

 

After searching through the front seat, Lewis withdrew from the vehicle and turned to face Taylor.

 

. “I don’t think she was killed here. I think she was _dumped_ here after she was killed elsewhere.”

 

“What makes you think that?”

 

“I don’t think _she_ was the one who drove the car here, Sarah. The driver’s seat is pushed all the way back, like a taller person would’ve been behind the wheel.”

 

Alvez returned and told Lewis he’d arranged for the surveillance camera footage to be sent to Garcia for analysis. Lewis shared her discovery about the driver’s seat and they exchanged a look. Frowning, Alvez popped open the trunk and the trio made their way to the back of the car. 

 

Evidence of blood and tissue littered the trunk of the car. Alvez muttered under his breath and laid a pre-emptively comforting hand on Taylor’s arm.

 

“Oh God,” the younger woman exclaimed.

 

“Better call Emily,” Lewis sighed and took out her cell phone to do so.

 

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“I need more parameters,” Garcia told the others as she relayed what she’d found. “I have more than fifty possible course flunkies, wanna be cop failures and washouts.”

 

“Well does anyone _know_ or have history with all three of the victims?” Reid asked her.

 

Tapping away at the keyboard, Garcia waited for the computer to tabulate and reported back, “No. Not with the information at hand.”

 

“Any commonalities, Garcia? Same residence or workplace? Course professor? Former boyfriend?” Rossi asked.

 

“Anything from the fast food restaurant surveillance?” Prentiss added.

 

“Going through that now,” Garcia told her. “Only one camera was actually recording anything, and it wasn’t the one trained on the back lot. It was the one watching the take out wind—“

 

Emily’s cell phone interrupted and the Unit Chief stepped aside to take the call from Lewis. 

 

“But I do see Olivia Hendricks’ car arriving at the restaurant. It goes straight through the drive through without stopping to order, and makes its way behind the place. Can’t make out the driver but I can tell you there’s only one person visible. Time stamp on the footage is three-eighteen a.m.”

 

Prentiss put away her cell phone and told the others, “Olivia Hendricks was killed someplace else and dumped behind that fast food joint.”

 

JJ’s brow furrowed as she flipped through some notes, found what she was looking for and spoke up, “Garcia, check your list of possibles with current or former employees of that restaurant who also frequented the fitness center.”

 

“I don’t think the killer necessarily worked at the restaurant.” Three pairs of eyes trained on Reid, waiting for elaboration. 

 

“That place closes at two a.m. The killer knew that. But so would most of the locals. It would be deserted and an opportune spot to dump the body. Natalie Dixon was killed and dumped behind the fitness center. The killer didn’t transport her body; she was dumped right at her murder site. He may be stalking them, waiting for the right moment.”

 

“So he’s disorganised. Takes his weapon of choice with him, but kills opportunistically. He’s not planning the where, just the who and the what,” Rossi mused aloud.

 

“And Jessica Monahan was found behind one of the campus residences,” JJ sighed and sorted through some notes before adding “Her roommate told us she never came back after her last class. Which would have ended at five p.m.”

 

“That’s weird. Wouldn’t there be plenty of kids around that time of day? The quads would be full of students on the way to dinner.” Rossi suggested.

 

“There’s a laundry room in the rear of the main floor of this building,” JJ spread the campus map out on the table and tapped at the spot. “And Jessica was found—“ she drew a line with her finger to the location of Jessica Monahan’s body “at the bottom of this little ravine behind the residence.”

 

“Forensics didn’t find any indication that she’d been dragged, she was shot and killed at the dump site too.” Reid pointed out. He made an educated guess, “She knew the killer and went willingly down into that ravine. What do we know about the roommate?” he directed his question at JJ.

 

“She checks out. Finished her class, went to their room, showered and changed and headed out to her part time job. Came back at ten p.m. and no Jessica. She knew she hadn’t been back to the room because her cell phone, computer and purse were still there. And before you ask, the last text on Jessica’s cell was at one-thirty, to another classmate cancelling dinner plans because she had a big assignment due the next day and was gonna be holed up in her room writing it that evening. But her computer doesn’t indicate any use after one-thirty either.”

 

“So Jessica went to her afternoon class from two to five p.m. and that’s the last we know of until she was found,” Rossi paused ”Who found her?”

 

Prentiss waved a file, “Campus police called it in. Patrol was searching around the residences after her roommate reported her missing.”

 

“Did someone speak to the officer involved?” Reid asked.

 

They looked to one another and Prentiss hauled out her cell phone to make a call.

 

Thirty seconds later, she gasped and muttered “Are you kidding me? Thank you.” Turning to the others, she told them, “The reporting campus officer was Olivia Hendricks.”

 

“Garcia?” Reid called.

 

“On it,” she’d heard the entire exchange.

 

“I’m going to the Campus PD to get Olivia Hendricks’ notebook,” Prentiss told them over her shoulder as she stormed out the door. 

 

Rossi glanced at the others and told them, “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” as he exited behind Prentiss, on his own mission.

 

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	5. Chapter 5

 

“Of course I’ll come, I’ll be right there!” Grace returned her phone to her pocket, gulped down the last of her coffee and raced back to Hetherington’s, cutting her lunch break short. She’d fallen into the habit of taking her lunch break at one of the three little restaurants on the main street a block away from the home. Her coffee break times she usually spent visiting Diana Reid. Because of her budding relationship with Diana’s son, she’d asked the home’s management to minimise the amount of time she actually spent caring for Diana, not wanting to compromise the integrity of the woman’s care. A conflict of interest was the last thing either party needed. Diana didn’t seem to realise their reduced interaction and Grace took care to make sure she still saw Spencer’s mother every day.

 

Today, she’d chosen the German deli and enjoyed sauerkraut and Oktoberfest sausage. She wondered whether Spencer would like food of this sort and made a mental note to suggest it to him some day. Soon, she hoped, as she made her way across the street, raced through the front door and hurried to stow her things in her locker then made her way up to Diana Reid’s room.

 

Steeling herself for the unexpected, Grace opened the door and pasted a smile on her face.

 

Diana was sitting up in her bed, leafing through her scrapbook. She looked up at Grace and smiled,

 

“My favourite girl! How are you today?”

 

“I’m fine, Diana, but Maureen called me and said you were looking for me?”

 

“I haven’t heard from Spencer in a couple of days and I was hoping you could tell me why.”

 

“He’s on a case, Diana. He was here yesterday but you were sleeping and we didn’t want to disturb you.”

 

She reached across the bed and patted Diana on the arm, “Do you feel like going out to the courtyard and visiting Chitter?” she asked, hoping a chance to see the squirrels that lived in the yard would mollify Diana. Instantly, the older woman’s face lit up and she moved out of her bed. Sliding her shoes on, Diana took Grace’s arm and the two women went for a short walk out to the courtyard. As they passed the nurse’s station, Maureen caught Grace’s attention and she whispered ‘thank you.’

 

After stopping by the Hetherington’s kitchen for some sunflower seeds, Diana and Grace made their way out to the yard and Diana spent a happy hour tossing seeds to the mother squirrel and her two babies and chatting amiably and lucidly with Grace about Spencer.

 

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“Ed Burns, I am, uh, was, Olivia Hendricks’ coach officer,” the middle-aged dark haired deputy introduced himself, extending his hand to shake Emily’s.

 

“Emily Prentiss, FBI Behavioural Analysis Unit chief,” she replied. “I’m sorry for your loss, I understand Olivia was a bright and shining star.”

 

He nodded sadly, “Sharp mind, that girl. She would’ve gone far.” He beckoned Emily to follow him into the privacy of an office and sat by the desk therein. Opening the top drawer, he withdrew a small notebook and handed it to Emily.

 

“That’s Olivia’s notebook,” he began. “We got a call about twenty-two hundred thirty hours Monday night. Jessica Monahan’s roommate reported her missing, overdue from a class since five p.m. The roommate had returned from work just after ten p.m. and found their room unoccupied. That was unexpected, as Jessica had indicated she’d be working on an assignment due the following day.”

 

He paused to take a breath, reestablished eye contact with Prentiss and continued, “We searched the building and the surrounding area and on the way back to the car, we’d left that parked out front of Jessica’s building, we heard a frantic amount of dog barking. A few minutes later, a man who’d been walking his dog came running up to the car and told us they’d found a woman’s body down in the ravine. They took us back down there and, well, it was Jessica. As her coach officer, I wanted Olivia to make notes, it’s not often we get a major crime around here, I filled out a report as well.” 

 

He paused to reopen the drawer and pulled out a file, “It’s all in there, Agent Prentiss. I made copies for you.”

 

“No idea why Jessica was back there?”

 

“Actually, the path along the top of the ravine is a well known short cut from one of the classroom buildings over on University Drive.”

 

“Thank you.” They shook hands, and Emily pulled out her cell phone to call her teammates with the new information.

 

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“Emily! We just got a call from a former boyfriend of Olivia Hendricks,” JJ informed her superior as the latter entered their conference room bearing a tray of take-out coffees and several bags of Chinese food. 

 

“I know it’s late, I thought we could all use some dinner,” Emily set down the food and addressed JJ, “What’d he have to say?”

 

“Well I already have Garcia on it, but Justin Summers, who dated Olivia up until about three months ago, called to let us know of something he thought we should know about.” She paused to take a breath, added sugar and cream to her coffee and continued, “Apparently, a few months ago, before he and Olivia broke up amicably, Olivia got into a terrible argument with Justin’s roommate, Dan Horton. So I have Garcia digging into this Dan Horton.”

 

As though on cue, Garcia chimed in and Emily immediately put her on speaker for all to hear.

 

“Are you guys having a Chinese food party without me? I’m missing all those carbs! Doggy bag please! Or maybe not. Well. Anyway, I shoveled deep into the pile for this, my friends. And here is what I found out. Dan Horton was also in the police studies course and had also put in for the campus police internship. He was really mad when Olivia got the position. So mad in fact, he got into a screaming match with her. And Justin came into the room just in time to hear Dan Horton threaten to kill her. The two men argued after that and Justin requested the campus residence people move Dan out. Which they did. Forcibly. Because several days earlier, he’d flunked another important test and was already on track to being expelled from the course. My digging has also discovered that Dan Horton comes from a broken family. His parents split when he was very young, he bounced from one foster home to another because neither parent could look after him. Drugs. Alcohol. You know. He had scholarship funding for his schooling but it was dependent on his grades. And as he faltered, so did his school funding.”

 

“Does he have any connection to Natalie Dixon or Jessica Monahan?” Emily wanted to know.

 

“I can answer part of that,” David Rossi told her as he entered the room, bearing a tray of take-out coffees. He smiled wryly when he saw the coffees Emily had brought in and, setting down his own full tray addressed the team,

 

“Jessica Monahan won the full scholarship for this year’s studies. Dan Horton didn’t take that well and threw a terrible fit in the admissions office. He was put on notice, that was back at the start of the semester.” He looked from one team member to another and explained, “I called the dean earlier today and went to see him. Dan Horton was expelled last Friday.”

 

“And Natalie Dixon was murdered Saturday night.”

 

“What’s the connection to Natalie?” Emily wanted to know. As the group thought about that, they reviewed their notes and Luke and Tara returned. 

 

“We stopped by the Forensics Unit office on the way back here,” Luke explained. “They lifted partial fingerprints off the shell casings of the bullets that killed Natalie Dixon and Jessica Monahan. And they match the fingerprints they took from the body of Olivia Hendricks last night. But there’s no match in CODIS.”

 

“First time offender,” Tara remarked.

 

“Garcia, does this Dan Horton have any priors?” Emily asked.

 

“Negative, Ma’am, um, Boss.”

 

“Never too late to start, apparently,” Rossi threw out.

 

“We don’t have anything except threats and yelling to connect this Dan Horton to any of the murders,” Prentiss declared.

 

“If he’s in police training, he would have a firearms permit.” Reid asserted, “And in the state of California, he’d have to go through the Bureau of Security and Investigative Services, and they would require—“

 

“Fingerprints!” Garcia interrupted. “Now entering the bureau,” she typed away and waited and in a matter of moments, “I hope you saved me an eggroll, Boy Wonder, because the fingerprints on his firearms app and the fingerprints in the police reports for all three of those murders match. Those, and the home address of Dan Horton are on their way to all your phones. Now.” With a click of her keyboard, Garcia sent them all the information on Dan Horton’s firearms permit application.

 

“Let’s go!” Prentiss directed as they all donned their Kevlars and Prentiss alerted the local police force to back them up.

 

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En route to the last known address of the unsub, Garcia forwarded her team members all the background information she had compiled about Dan Horton. Prentiss read it aloud:

 

“He recently applied for a police job with the Los Angeles Police Department, under their cadet program. But he was overlooked in favour of two female candidates. One was Natalie Dixon, the other is a blonde woman named Samantha Stevens.” 

 

Prentiss stopped cold and asked Garcia, “Can you give us a current address and contact number for Samantha Stevens?”

 

Garcia complied, sending the information and Prentiss made the decision to split the team up. “JJ, Reid, Rossi you guys go to the address Garcia just sent us, take a backup unit. The rest of us will proceed to Horton’s address.” As she spoke, JJ called one of the local deputies accompanying them and they immediately turned off in the direction of the home of Samantha Stevens. 

 

The SUV driven by David Rossi screeched to a stop in front of the house of Samantha Stevens. Local deputies pulled in right behind them. Taking charge, Rossi directed the four locals to split into pairs and take the side and front entrances of the house. 

 

There were two cars in the driveway of the bungalow, and Rossi recited the plates to Garcia who quickly ran them. 

 

“The red Nissan is registered to David Stevens, who appears to be Samantha’s husband,” Garcia informed them. “The silver Chevy Cruze belongs to,” she caught her breath before finishing, “Dan Horton.”

 

Rossi accompanied the two officers making their way to the front door while JJ and Reid followed the others around to the back. 

 

Rossi called “FBI, Open up!” and rapped loudly on the door. They waited for just a moment before the larger of the two local deputies kicked the door down and the trio entered, guns cocked and ready to clear the house. The living room, kitchen and dining room were quickly given the all clear before Rossi led the way down the hallway to the bedrooms. 

 

“I’ve got someone!” one of the deputies called, as the others raced to her side. Propped up against the closet with her hands secured in zip ties, was the otherwise unharmed Samantha Stevens. She was gagged and disheveled. The female deputy removed the sweater that had been jammed into her mouth and reassured her that she would be all right.

 

Rossi directed the other deputy to resume the search as he asked Samantha “Is he still here?”

 

She was unable to speak but nodded her head affirmatively, pointing towards the back of the house. Rossi told the female officer to call for medical for their victim and hurried to rejoin the other officer.

 

Moving from the en suite bathroom to the master bedroom, Dan Horton hurriedly assessed his situation. He knew there were three cops behind him towards the front of the house. He’d heard two male voices and a female one. He’d never be able to get past them to the front door, he knew. Forging ahead, he saw the deck outside the window. Ahead, a sliding glass door afforded him his possible escape. He saw two more police officers at the back of the property by the garden shed. Horton approached the sliding glass door cautiously.

 

Outside the house, the two other locals along with JJ and Reid were making their way around the back of the house. There was a shed in the back of the yard and JJ indicated the two deputies should investigate there. A deck ran the length of the back wall of the house and a sliding glass door opened into the far left side of the wall. JJ climbed the three steps up onto the deck and made her way towards the glass door.  She glanced in the direction of the shed as the deputies called all clear. Reid climbed the stairs behind JJ and as her attention was momentarily drawn to the deputies at the shed, the sliding glass door opened and the barrel of a gun appeared. 

 

He didn’t have time to yell a warning; that would just have caused her to look in his direction. In a split second, Reid made the decision to act. He launched himself at JJ, sending them both sprawling to the deck just as a flash indicated a shot was fired.

 

Instantly, the deputies at the shed, as well as Rossi and his local partner responded, Rossi fired a shot, hitting the gunman in the back. He fell without returning fire again, hit the floor of the master bedroom and was still.

 

“Sound off!” Rossi called out in alarm.

 

“Spence!” he heard JJ’s anguished cry.

 

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	6. Chapter 6

 

Grace flipped on the television and rolled her eyes when she discovered that the Nationals were already down three to nothing in the bottom of the second inning. 

 

“No wonder Spencer’s not interested in sports,” she said glibly, turning the channel and finding a game show to watch instead. Dinner tonight was just going to be a sandwich, she decided, after the substantial lunch she’d had. Making her way into the kitchen, she tossed together some bread and cheese and sliced leftover chicken for the sandwich and then returned to the living room to eat. She’d received several texts during the afternoon but hadn’t responded to any while still at work. 

 

Letting out a long breath, she took out her iPhone and set about replying to Penelope, Emily and Spencer. Penelope’s text was just friendly chatter about life in general. Garcia liked sending cute photos, and Grace found several of those in her inbox. A panda. A unicorn. And a kitten playing with bubbles being blown by an unseen person out of camera range. Grace couldn’t help but smile. Prentiss was texting her to invite her to ‘Girls Night Out.’ That sounded interesting, she thought. And Spencer, who was just telling her he’d landed safely, was working a case; would not be home tonight and for her to take care. Smiling, she texted him a quick ‘good night’ and set her phone aside to eat her sandwich.

 

The game show ended and she wasn’t interested in anything else on television that night, so she decided a nice relaxing bath was in order.

 

After filling the tub with hot water, she added one of her favourite bath bombs and settled into it with a glass of wine by her side and a silly romance novel on her kindle. Her phone sat on the vanity next to a huge fluffy towel.

 

Less than half an hour later, her relaxation was shattered. The iPhone rang. She reached for it and saw the call was from Garcia, but at the office not at home.

 

“Penelope?” she asked, taking a sip of wine.

 

“Hey, Grace, can I come over?”

 

Grace almost choked on her wine.

 

“Pen?”

 

“Please?”

 

Garcia sounded near tears and Grace was instantly worried about her. “Of course, Pen, come on over.”

 

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The hour or so it would take for Penelope Garcia to drive from the FBI Quantico office to Grace’s downtown DC apartment seemed like forever. She concentrated on her driving, trying not to think about it, wanting to keep control, both of herself and of Esther, her old Buick. There was little traffic at this hour and Garcia bore down on the accelerator rather more than she should, bringing the travel time down to fifty minutes as she pulled Esther into a parking spot in front of Grace’s apartment building.

 

She buzzed for admittance and scurried into the elevator, willing the device to hurry up. Finally, she arrived at the seventh floor and the elevator door opened. Grace’s apartment door was open, and Penelope stepped tentatively in front of it.

 

“Grace?” she inquired in a soft voice.

 

Grace appeared in the little entryway and Penelope rushed through the threshold, kicking the door shut behind her and pulled Grace into her arms. In her distress, she failed to recognise the coat Grace was wearing as one that actually belonged to Reid. 

 

“Oh, honey. Penelope! What’s wrong, dear? You okay?”

 

Penelope Garcia burst into tears, held Grace in her arms at arms’ length and both started shaking. Garcia moved forward, propelling Grace along with her, until both women stood before the sofa. Sitting down, Penelope pulled Grace down beside her, keeping hold of her friend as she did so.

 

“I’m okay. It’s not me. It’s Rei—Spencer. He’s been shot.”

 

The colour drained from Grace’s face. She fought back tears and quickly lost the battle, the women sobbed together for a long moment before Garcia took a few deep breaths and gave Grace all the information she could.

 

“I don’t have all the details, they were out to catch a guy who’d killed three women, including a police cadet. He was shooting—oh that doesn’t matter. What matters is that Spencer saw his gun, saw that he had JJ in his sight and Spencer just dove into her to knock her out of the way.”

 

It was eerily similar to what had happened to Reid in Texas several years back. On that occasion, he’d taken a bullet meant for Agent Alex Blake and ended up shot in the neck. This wasn’t lost on either of them. Grace shivered, and murmured “just like Texas.” 

 

Penelope hugged her and whispered back, “And he’ll be okay, just like Texas.” 

 

“Will he? Will he be okay?” Grace managed between gasps of breath as she tried, _as she willed herself_ to stop crying. 

 

“I don’t know, I don’t know. _Yes_ , he will be. He has to be.” Garcia replied. “I just heard that JJ screamed Reid’s name, and then more shots rang out. And the unsub, the bad guy, is dead. Rossi called for medical for Spencer and they took him to the hospital but I haven’t been able to get any further update.”

 

Garcia took several more deep breaths and the two women held hands. “I just thought you deserved to know, to hear it from us right away. I hope,” Garcia paused, suddenly second guessing herself, she continued in a less confident tone of voice, “I hope that was the right thing to do.”

 

Nodding, Grace squeezed Garcia’s hand. “Yes, definitely. I appreciate you being honest with me. And keeping me in the loop.”

 

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Grace pulled her iPhone from the pocket of Reid’s coat. “I wonder if it would be a good time to return Emily’s call,” she asked aloud, nervously rocking the phone back and forth in one hand.

 

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“I’m sorry, ma’am, you’ll have to wait out here,” the O-R nurse insisted, putting her hand on JJ’s upper arm and steering her back towards the E-R waiting room where Prentiss, Lewis, Alvez and Simmons were already waiting. Rossi had dropped JJ off at the hospital on his way back to the police station to report on the incident on all their behalves. The team was informed that Reid was to be taken from the Emergency department into an Operating room only minutes after the ambulance had initially brought him in.

 

JJ watched unhappily as the medical team wheeled Reid out of her view into the O-R.

 

Emily touched JJ’s arm sympathetically. 

 

“He’ll be okay, JJ.”

 

“He has to be. He’s been through so much already and he has so much more life to live yet.”

 

She paced the waiting room floor, ignoring her cell phone, which went off three times in the space of half an hour. Back and forth, back and forth JJ paced. Fifteen steps, stop at the door, pivot, walk back fifteen steps past where Emily and Tara were seated. After about the thirtieth repetition, Emily reached out and took JJ’s arm, pulling her into the seat next to her.

 

Both women’s eyes glistened with tears.

 

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Garcia’s brow furrowed and a small giggle escaped her lips.

 

“Sorry, it’s not funny. Grace? Is that Reid’s coat?” Garcia asked when she finally realised what Grace was wearing.

 

Despite their current fears, Grace managed a smile too, as she burrowed deeply into the referenced garment, nodding affirmatively.

 

“He lent it to me over a month ago, Penelope. When we were walking home one chilly night. He never asked for it back. He may have forgotten about it,” Grace explained. 

 

“I bet it’s comforting,” Garcia said softly, stroking Grace’s arm as she spoke.   
 

Grace nodded. “I sleep with it almost every night.”

 

“That’s sweet,” Garcia told her, “Hopefully, you’ll be able to sleep with the real deal instead soon.”

 

Grace raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply. Garcia’s verbal muse matched her own hopes and dreams.

 

They sat in a companionable silence for a long time, holding hands and hoping for the best.

 

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The E-R waiting room door swung open and a doctor in scrubs approached the BAU members.

 

“Emily Prentiss?” the doctor read from notes on a chart. As Reid’s Medical Power of Attorney and emergency contact, Emily was the one to whom the doctor wished to speak. 

 

Prentiss rose from her seat, JJ right behind her. 

 

“She’s okay,” Prentiss waved off any potential question from the doctor.

 

“Doctor Reid sustained a bullet wound to the left lateral portion of his gluteus maximus. We removed the shell,” he paused to hand Emily the evidence in a small plastic bag, and patched up the wound. He’ll be laying on his right side for a while and probably have some difficulty sitting or walking for a few days but he should make a full recovery. It was what you’d call in street terms, a glancing blow.”

 

JJ heaved a huge sigh of relief.

 

“I’m keeping him overnight because he did lose consciousness at the time of the shooting, and may have a slight concussion. We’ll know more when he comes around, but I expect a full recovery.”

 

“Thank you. When can we see him?” Emily asked.

 

“I’ll have the nurse let you know when he’s out of the anesthetic.” He shook Emily’s hand and then hurried away to see to his next patient.

 

Emily turned to relay the information to the others and they breathed sighs of relief. Finally, JJ checked her phone and returned Will’s call, explaining what had happened. Luke and Matt made calls home as well, and then Emily asked them all to accompany her to a coffee shop to decompress for a while. Prentiss stopped at the nurse’s station and spoke in undertones to the lead nurse, then turned and rejoined her team.

 

“I need someone to catch up with Rossi at the police department. Let him know Reid’s okay and submit our report on what happened at Horton’s residence,” Prentiss said as they made their way to the hospital coffee shop. She looked to Simmons, Alvez and Lewis hoping one of them would volunteer without her having to delegate someone. Prentiss wanted to remain close by Reid.

 

“I’ll go,” Lewis volunteered, taking the car keys from Alvez and giving Prentiss a slight smile. 

 

“Oh, take this, will you? They’ll wanna run forensics on it,” Prentiss handed Lewis the little bag with the retrieved bullet inside. Lewis took it and nodded.

 

“Give Reid my best,” she requested as she left them at the coffee shop.

 

“It’ll be an hour or so before Reid comes around, and we can all see him. And then, my friends, we’ll hit our hotel rooms and get a good night’s sleep. And hopefully, we’ll be able to spring the good doctor from this place tomorrow and head home.” Prentiss smiled as she led the team to a table after procuring coffee for all.

 

The others all took seats around the table and JJ asked, “What did you guys find out at Horton’s?”

 

“In a nutshell? Reid was right. Horton hates women. Specifically young blonde women who beat him out for the scholarship, the internship, the job with LAPD,” Simmons answered her.

 

“Ugh,” JJ opined.

 

“His place was a mess. Littered with misogynist rants about women in law enforcement. He had, like, a hit list,” Alvez commented, the distaste evident in his tone, “Photos of the ones he’d already killed and the ones targeted. Just for being blonde and young and apparently taking away _his_ jobs, _his_ opportunities.”

 

JJ shook her head in disgust.

 

“And he had all of their class and work schedules, he was stalking them,” Simmons added.

 

Prentiss heard her phone indicate she had a text and she pulled it out of her pocket to read it.

 

“Oh,” she said aloud, before keying a reply on her phone and then looking up at her teammates. “The Irvine P-D found what they believe is the murder site of Olivia Hendricks. Forensics is there now.”

 

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Just after nine p.m., Emily’s phone signaled another incoming text. Reid was coming out of the anesthetic and the nurse to whom Prentiss had spoken earlier texted her to let her know they could now come visit their friend. Quickly, they cleared their table and rushed upstairs to the nurse’s station and were then swiftly ushered to Reid’s room.

 

Their genius was laying on his right side, trying to eat red jello from his awkward position. JJ hurried over to feed it to him. He was in good spirits, despite the injury and openly joking with Alvez and Simmons.

 

“Now I know what they mean by ‘pain in the ass’,” he laughed.

 

Rossi quoted Monty Python (‘ _it’s just a flesh wound! I’ve had worse!’ )_ and everyone dissolved into laughter.

 

Reid showed no sign of concussion, according to the chart at the foot of the bed and Emily fervently hoped that meant they could take him home with them in the morning. 

 

They spent a few more minutes with him before Emily shooed them all out so she could speak to him alone.

 

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	7. Chapter 7

“What time is it, Penelope?” Grace asked.

 

“Just after midnight, Grace,” Garcia replied. 

 

As she spoke, Garcia’s phone rang. Before the ringtone signifying Emily was calling could sound its second note, Garcia had swiped the button to reply.

 

“Emily! Any news?”

 

“Yes. And yes. Thanks for your good work, Penelope. We got our guy. Saved another potential victim in the process.”

 

“That’s great, Emily, but what about Reid?”

 

“Wanna talk to him yourself?” Emily offered.

 

“Oh Emily!” she heaved a huge sigh of relief and then realised where she was. “Um, Emily, I’m at Grace’s.” She wondered if she’d be in trouble, if she’d violated some protocol, if there would be consequences for going with her heart, thinking Grace should be told and she should not be alone when told. She put the phone on speaker and set it down on her knee to share with Grace. There was a brief moment of silence on the line, which made Garcia squirm uncomfortably before both she and Grace dissolved into happy tears.

 

“Garcia? Grace?” came the worried voice of Spencer Reid.

 

“Oh my goodness, Boy Wonder, are you okay?

 

He gave them an unconvincing chuckle and replied, “I’ll have trouble sitting for a while, but I’m okay. A little embarrassed, but okay.”

 

“You were shot in the tushie?” Garcia ventured. Grace was too embarrassed to say anything and they heard Emily’s hearty laugh but no response from Reid himself for a long moment. 

 

“He’s blushing, Pen. I think maybe we should let him get some sleep. But let him talk to Grace first.”

 

“Okay. Take care, 187. I’m so relieved and so glad you’re okay,” Garcia replied. Switching the speaker option off, she handed her phone to Grace and excused herself to go use Grace’s bathroom and leave her with privacy to speak with Spencer.

 

“Spence?” 

 

“I’m okay, Grace. It’s just a flesh wound.”

 

“You promise to be okay?” She could tell by the tone of his voice he was trying to be dismissive of his injury.

 

“I am just fine, Grace. Honest. We’ll talk about this when I get home, okay?”

 

“Okay.” She wanted to tell him. She wanted to say _I love you._ But she wasn’t sure the moment was right. Instead, she said, “Take care and I’ll talk to you as soon as you get back.”

 

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Prentiss and JJ eased Reid gingerly into the long bench seat of the jet, taking care to help him lie down on his right side. JJ settled a pillow under his head and Prentiss covered him with a blanket before saying

 

“You need anything, you let us know, Spencer. Take it easy, try and sleep.”

 

He nodded wearily and closed his eyes as the doting women took their seats across from him. JJ held Reid’s messenger bag on her lap, his iPhone sat at the very top. Rossi had stowed Reid’s go bag along with his own as he’d boarded the jet and had already helped himself to a glass of Scotch. He slid into a seat across from Alvez and Simmons.

 

“Scotch?” Simmons asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Rossi nodded and sipped.

 

“It’s nine-thirty in the morning!” Simmons pointed out.

 

Alvez put a hand over his own mouth to stifle the guffaw that he couldn’t help making.

 

Pointing to his watch, Rossi bluntly said, “It’s nine-thirty _here._ It’s twelve-thirty in DC,” before taking another sip and fixing Simmons with a pointed stare.

 

Simmons put up his hands as though in defeat and said, “I stand corrected.”

 

Alvez laughed and muttered ‘newbie,” and wished fervently that Garcia could have witnessed the moment.

 

Prentiss’ phone rang and she moved quickly to the front of the plane to answer it so as not to disturb Reid. His iPhone beeped, indicating he’d received a message and JJ quickly peeked at the screen to see who had texted him. It was the DC public library, and JJ decided he didn’t need to be disturbed for that and shoved the phone back in the bag. 

 

Prentiss returned to JJ and motioned for her to join the others up front. Once they were all assembled next to Rossi’s seat, Prentiss relayed what she’d just learned.

 

“They did a rush on ballistics because law enforcement officers were among the victims. The same gun fired the bullets that killed and disfigured all three of our victims. The ballistics also match the bullet extracted from Reid.” She paused for a moment to take a breath and continued, “There were three other names on Horton’s hit list. Photos and schedules for three other women. The local P-D went out and checked on those women and they are all safe.”

 

There were several murmurs of ‘thank goodness’ among the team members and Prentiss continued to debrief them. “Olivia Hendricks was apparently shot in his next door neighbour’s backyard, police found blood and other evidence there, including tire tracks matching those of her vehicle. We’ll probably never know how he managed to lure her there, given their less than friendly history.” She let out a deep sigh and concluded, “Anyway, this one is in the books. It’s been a long couple of days, when we land in a couple hours, I want everyone to go home and relax and take tomorrow off, make it a long weekend and I’ll see you all Monday morning.”

 

They dispersed and settled in to read or sleep for the duration of their flight. Prentiss slipped back into the seat across from Reid and JJ joined her in the adjacent one. 

 

“Hey, Jayje?” Prentiss whispered. 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Wanna let Garcia and Grace know we’ll be landing in—“ she paused to check her watch, “About an hour and a half. Oh, and let Garcia know she’s off Friday.”

 

JJ reached for her cell phone and sent texts to both women. Almost instantly, she got a reply from Garcia. The ‘ _yippee! LOL!’_ made JJ laugh and she quickly stifled it. 

 

The reply from Grace came a few minutes later.

 

_He usually takes the Metro home from the airport._

 

Quickly, JJ typed another response. _I’ll be driving him home today; he can’t be in a train for hours._

 

_I’d like to look after him if I may. I don’t work ‘til Sunday._

 

JJ thought that was a great idea. _I’ll bring him over! Will text you when I have an ETA._

 

_Thank you!_

 

JJ smiled and put away her phone, and after checking on Reid once again, settled in for a short nap for the flight’s duration.

 

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Reid was lying awkwardly across the back seat of JJ’s SUV as they rode from the airfield towards home. He fully expected that she was going to drop him off at his apartment and was surprised when she missed that exit off the highway.

 

“Hey JJ?” he asked weakly.

 

“Are you okay?” She was instantly concerned.

 

“Yeah, but you missed my exit—“

 

“You’re not going to your apartment.”

 

“I—what?”

 

“I’m taking you where you can be looked after for a couple of days.”

 

He struggled to sit up, ensuring all his weight was on his right side and grimaced against the pain. 

“No way. You are not gonna spend your days off—“

 

“Relax, Spence,” she chuckled as she made her turn off the highway and headed into the city. “I’m not taking you to our place.”

 

“Then where—“ he started and as he recognised the street and the landmarks, it fell into place. “We’re going to Grace’s aren’t we?”

 

“That’s my genius,” JJ smiled at him in the rear view mirror and he managed to send her back one of his own.

 

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Grace held his arm supportively as he shuffled down the hallway towards the bedroom. He’d already lost the staying at his own apartment argument and the carrying his own bag argument and was too tired and uncomfortable now to cross her further.

 

“It’s no trouble at all. You’re gonna have to stay on your right side as much as possible and you’re gonna do that in the bed. Not on the sofa.” She held up a hand to forestall the anticipated protest and was almost disappointed to hear him sigh and do as he was bid, deciding he would have lost the sleeping on the sofa argument as well.

 

He paused at the threshold to the bedroom, holding the doorframe for support as a wave of pain washed over him.

 

“Spence?” Instantly her authoritative tone was gone, replaced by genuine care and concern. She leaned in ahead of him and tossed his bag on the wing chair set in the corner then turned to assist him to the bed. The hospital grade pain medication was wearing off, she could tell, and he’d specifically asked that no narcotics be prescribed. He put his hands down on the bed and eased himself onto it, putting his weight entirely on his right hip. 

 

Grace heard his sharp gasp and cringed empathetically. Moving quickly, she helped him lie down and carefully swung his left leg up, resting it on top of his already outstretched right leg. He took several deep breaths to allay the pain while she removed his shoes. She left his mismatched socks on his feet and stifled a chuckle at the selection—Mickey Mouse on a purple background on one foot, pumpkins on the other—then drew the comforter up over him.

 

“I’ll be right back, Spence, I’m gonna get some pillows. Making her way to her storage closet, she removed a full-length body pillow and a few cushions from the upper shelf then returned with them to the bedroom.

 

“Had this one when I broke my leg skating a couple of years ago,” she explained, positioning the longer pillow behind his back to support him staying on his side. The smaller cushions she placed in front of his knee and hip, hoping they’d help keep him still.

 

“Thank you,” he responded in a weak voice betraying his pain and tiredness.

 

“I’m gonna let you sleep for a while, Spence.” She left his phone on the bed within his reach, “Just text or call if you need anything. In case you can’t yell,” she motioned to the phone. “You need to rest.”

 

He nodded weakly and sighed, closing his eyes and was almost instantly asleep.

 

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He awoke and for the tiniest moment, Spencer wondered where he was and then a flood of memories of the last two days washed over him. _A deck. JJ in front of him. Looking for an unsub. The gun at the door. A flash and searing pain in his rear end. Waking up in the hospital. Grace finding out. Pain and blackness. The jet. JJ driving him home. No. Not home. To Grace’s._ He realised he was at Grace’s apartment.

 

“Grace?” he shouted. Or at least, he thought he shouted. It was more of a loud whisper and she heard him, nevertheless, and came running.

 

“You okay?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Hungry?”

 

“No.” He focused and saw that she was in her nightgown. “Is it night time?”

 

“Almost one in the morning.”

 

“Where were you?”

 

“I was, uh, I was out on the sofa.”

 

His eyes grew wider. “You’re sleeping on the sofa?” He moved to rise and she immediately quashed that plan.

 

“Nuh uh, you stay put,” she commanded, gently pushing him back down on the bed.

 

“You’re _not_ sleeping on the sofa. This is _your_ bed.” He patted the empty space beside him and met her eyes with his own. Softening his expression he implored, “Stay here with me, please?”

 

“I’ll be right back.”

 

He waited patiently to make sure she was returning and released a sigh when she reappeared with her pillow a moment later.

 

Arranging it in place, Grace climbed into bed next to him, taking care not to jostle or touch his injured hip. He smiled as their faces lay mere inches apart. Unable to resist, he leaned over and kissed her good night.

 

He closed his eyes and fell asleep. In the semidarkness of the room, Grace watched his peacefully sleeping face for a long time.

 

“I love you, Spencer,” she whispered before succumbing to her own sleep.

 

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_Yeah, there’s no way he’s up to spending time at the park with the boys today, JJ. Sorry!_

 

_Not a problem, Grace. Please give him our best and tell him not to worry-he’ll have the boys some other day!_

 

Grace had managed to get her Sunday shift called off so she could stay at home with Spencer. Remembering he’d been slated to spend the day at the park with his godsons, Grace had the presence of mind to text JJ and let her know Spencer was in no shape to look after the boys. JJ had already half-expected this would be the case and had tempered her sons’ impending disappointment by promising them another special day, explaining that Uncle Spencer had been hurt and wasn’t able to run around with them in the park. Henry understood this immediately and decided a get-well card was in order. He enlisted his little brother to help him and the two little LaMontagnes made their way to the kitchen table to start an epic art project. 

 

Placing a bowl of soup and a bottle of juice on a tray, Grace added a few napkins and decided Spencer’s lunch needed a little more substance. She took a box of crackers from a drawer and shook a dozen or so onto a small plate. Satisfied, she picked up the tray and headed to the bedroom. 

 

Spencer was awake, propped up on the pillows to allow him to sit in a fashion that centered his weight off his left hip.

 

“Hungry?” she asked, setting the tray down on the night table. 

 

“Yeah, I am, thank you.” He ate the soup and crackers, drank the juice and set the empty dishes aside. Grace busied herself for a few minutes tidying up the bathroom as he ate. She replaced the towels with fresh ones and carried the laundry out to the large walk-in closet in the front hall that housed her washer and dryer. When she returned to the bedroom, he patted the bed beside him inviting her to sit down.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

“We do,” she agreed. She sat down next to him and took his hand in her own.

 

“I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you and spending time with you Grace.” He felt far more than that but wasn’t ready to share those feelings just yet. Squeezing her hand, he continued, “I need you to trust me. Trust that when I leave with the team on a case, we’re doing our best to keep the country safe. And keep ourselves safe in the process.”

 

She nodded, “I know. The last thing any of you wants is for anyone to get hurt. Penelope’s made that pretty clear.”

 

He rubbed her hand with his thumb for a moment. “I could rhyme off all kinds of statistics and testaments about jobs and occupations that are far more dangerous than law enforcement.” His gaze met hers and he reminded her, “But the difference is, I’m armed. And trained in tactical situations.” He turned her hand over to draw attention to her forearm. The bruise inflicted by his angry mother several weeks earlier had healed but running his finger gently along where the mark had been brought that reality back for both Spencer and Grace. “You said this happens to nurses all the time.”

 

Grace bit her lower lip and nodded, “It does. We get spit on, bitten, vomited on, you name it.”

 

“And you’re professionals, you know how to deal with these incidents and minimise the dangers to yourselves.”

 

She nodded again and saw where he was going with this. “As do you in your job.”

 

Nodding, he told her, “Our number one job is to make sure _we_ stay safe. That means the public, the victims or hostages and _ourselves._ Sometimes that means things like calling off a car chase, letting the SWAT team handle a takedown, whatever. We have to assess the situation and make those decisions. But job number one has, and always will be, safety first.”

 

Grace reached up with her free hand and stroked his cheek. He turned his face and kissed her hand and reestablished eye contact.

 

“It has always been the priority to practice safety. We all want to come home safely at the end of the work day.” Dropping his voice to a whisper, he added, “Even more so now, when there’s something worth coming home to.”

 

She couldn’t stop herself and leaned in to kiss him, eliciting an immediate response from Spencer. He curled his hand around the back of her head and held her there as his lips moved pliantly under hers. He kissed her breathless, tongue darting between her lips and sending shivers up her spine and waves of desire through her. Carefully, Grace slid her arms around his back and held him as close as was feasible in their seated position, taking care not to compromise his injured hip.

 

He pulled back to take a breath and moved his mouth to her ear.

 

“I need you to trust me. Trust that I’m always thinking about coming home. To you. To us.” He hugged her against him and leaned back as she kissed along his throat and jawline until she reached his ear.

 

“I trust you, Spencer. I trust your judgment and your integrity.”

 

She moved back and looked into his eyes. “And I trust you, Grace,” he said, deliberately running his finger along her forearm again.

 

For several minutes they sat cuddled together on Grace’s bed and then reluctantly, she rose and settled him back down so he could sleep for a while.

 

Grace padded out to the living room and got cozy in the new recliner she’d purchased. She sent out several texts, received the responses she needed and then waited for Spencer to awaken so she could apprise him of the schedule she’d devised for the next two weeks.

 

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	8. Chapter 8

 

Fourteen days passed quickly. In that time, Reid attended several physiotherapy sessions, most often accompanied by Grace. On two occasions Penelope provided his escort and transportation, as Grace was working. This arrangement also suited Prentiss who took advantage of the opportunity to stay apprised of Reid’s progress and recovery through updates from Garcia. 

 

Penelope spent the first Tuesday night at Grace’s apartment as Grace had previously promised to work for Maureen and did not want to renege on that promise. Garcia and Reid spent the evening eating popcorn and watching the _Star Wars_ series, _the original trilogy, the true version,_ Reid had insisted.

 

The team called him for consultation and input on several cases during his absence, in part to make him feel included and in part because they genuinely needed his help.

 

After the first few days, he managed to go for a short walk. Garcia had retrieved his old cane from his apartment and he progressed from ten minutes to a full hour’s walk through the park behind Grace’s apartment building. 

 

By the Wednesday of the second week, he felt ready to go home and resume responsibility for his own care. Although disappointed, Grace understood this need. After procuring a few groceries for him, Grace took Spencer back to his apartment and once there, made lunch for them both.

 

While she was busy preparing lunch in his tiny kitchen, he headed straight to his desk and perused a textbook he’d wanted to consult earlier in the day when Rossi had called him. Finding the information he was looking for, he quickly rang the senior agent and relayed what he’d learned. They spoke for several minutes, Grace heard Spencer laugh at something Rossi said. She smiled at the thought that normalcy—his normalcy—was returning to his life, how much he thrived on routine and doing research. 

 

She brought soup and sandwiches out to his living room, setting them down on the coffee table and called for him. He appeared from the bedroom, holding a small _Macy’s_ bag in his hand.

 

“Is this the one you were asking me about?” he questioned, turning the item over to her. He sat at on the sofa and sniffed appreciatively. “Mushroom soup! My favourite!” 

 

“Yes. And yes!” she scooped the bag from him and happily noted the contents were intact. “Thank you!

 

They ate lunch and Grace tidied up and then asked, “Do you feel up to going to visit your mother? She’s asked about you several times in the past couple days.”

 

Half an hour later, the couple arrived at Hetherington’s and Diana postponed her usual afternoon nap to spend some time with Spencer and Grace.

 

He gave his mother a very edited version of what had transpired to cause his need for the cane and Diana accepted it without question. She talked about her nurses LaMarr and Iris for several minutes and stopped short.

 

“Where are my manners? I should be offering you tea.”

 

“No thank you, Mom, we’re fine.”

 

Grace stepped forward and gave Diana the _Macy’s_ bag. “I actually picked this up for you quite some time ago and managed to forget to bring it along until now.”

 

Diana gasped in delight as she unwrapped the tissue and found a photograph of herself and Spencer and Grace in a lovely black onyx and white marbled frame. She clutched it to herself and thanked them profusely,

 

“Now I’ll always have proof that we’re family, even when I don’t remember you anymore eventually,” she said evenly, without any sense of trepidation.

 

Spencer swallowed a lump in his throat and Grace tightened her hold on his arm supportively. 

 

“There’s more,” she encouraged and Diana’s attention returned to the bag. 

 

“Oh my goodness, they’re adorable,” she commented as she withdrew a trio of small stuffed animals from the bag. There were three squirrels; one slightly larger than the other two and Diana immediately made the connection. “I’ll have Chitter and her babies at my side forever! Even when the real ones are off hibernating.”

 

Spencer decided against correcting her, choosing not to relate that squirrels didn’t truly hibernate and instead commented, “Now you’ll have pets year round, and you won’t have to feed these ones, Mom.”

 

After spending some time engaging her in a game of Scrabble, Spencer and Grace settled Diana into her bed for her nap and said goodbye. As they left the room to head back to her car, Grace stopped to pull Spencer into a hug.

 

“That was a little rough, wasn’t it?” She said sympathetically as she rubbed his back. 

 

“Thank you,” he whispered, truly appreciative of her support. He returned the hug for a long moment, and then it occurred to him, “Grace, you’re working later, I will take a cab home. There’s no need for you to drive back and forth—“

 

“You’ll do no such thing.”

 

He opened his mouth to protest, caught the look in her eye and clamped his mouth shut.

 

Grace drove Spencer home and then returned to Hetherington’s to work the evening shift. She was scheduled to work both days of the weekend and was loath to take any more time off. 

 

He spent the weekend getting used to doing things on his own. By Sunday afternoon, he was walking without the cane and moving from standing to sitting without too much pain. He felt ready to return to work.

 

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Friday evening, Grace arrived home from work, drew herself a hot bath and poured herself some wine. An hour later, suitably relaxed, she made her way to the front hall closet and a moment later gasped in dismay.

 

Spencer’s coat was missing. 

 

She hadn’t slept in it since before he’d spent his recuperation at her place. Grace couldn’t remember the last time she’d even seen the garment. It took about an hour, but she searched the entire apartment fruitlessly and by the time she was done, the tension that had dissipated in her bath was back. The coat was nowhere to be found. She wondered if he’d discovered it and reclaimed it, but she didn’t recall seeing it among his possessions when she took him home earlier in the week. With a sigh she resigned herself to sleeping in a nightgown and after getting dressed, she climbed into bed. As her head hit the pillow, she realised his scent was everywhere: the pillow, the sheets, and the blankets. Her distress turned to joy and although she missed his physical presence, the aura that he had been there comforted her and soon she was asleep.

 

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“Hey, Grace,” Maureen was calling for her attention as she sat at a table in the Hetherington’s staff room having her break Monday morning. She looked up from her iPhone and saw Maureen motioning at her.

 

“What’s up, Mo?” she asked as she rose to join her colleague.

 

“Someone here to see you,” Maureen told her. “Down by the nurse’s station. I gotta get back downstairs to the Bingo players,” she hurried away.

 

Grace was puzzled. If Spencer were here to see her, Maureen would surely have made some kind of crack. Besides, he’d gone back to work this morning. As Grace rounded the corner and made her way down the central corridor, her eyes widened in surprise.

 

“Penelope Garcia!” she called out in a loud whisper, “What are you doing here?”

 

Garcia had a rather large bag in one hand and waited until Grace was just a few feet away. Penelope held the bag out to her and Grace took it from her. Her jaw dropped as she opened it and found Reid’s coat inside.

 

“I know how much you like having it. But while he was _there_ with you, I figured you wouldn’t need it. We spilled milk in the kitchen and I wiped it up with a towel and took that to your closet with laundry stuff. And I found the coat in there. And I didn’t want _him_ to find it so I thought I’d, you know, put it away until such time—“ She paused and giggled nervously.

 

“Oh my god. Penelope Garcia!” Grace wasn’t sure to laugh or cry. An involuntary giggle made the decision for her and she replied, “Thank you. For returning it. And hiding it from him. Oh my god, we’re conspiring to keep something from Spence.”

 

She wondered aloud if keeping his coat from him was in any way a violation of trust. 

 

“Trust? Oh I don’t think you two have any issues there, Grace. He doesn’t miss the coat, does he?”

 

“He hasn’t mentioned it.” 

 

“Ergo he doesn’t miss it then, does he?”

 

“Ergo?”

 

“Please. I’m trying to sound grammatically correct.”

 

  Both women dissolved into laughter. 

 

“Anyway, I know he’s back at his place today and I thought maybe you would want the coat back now so—“

 

“I took him home a couple of days ago,” Grace corrected.

 

“Oh no! I’m so sorry then. How did you sleep last few nights? I should have returned this sooner. I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s okay. My whole bed still smells wonderfully like Spencer,” Grace told her, taking great delight in the look on Penelope’s face: eyes bugged wide-open, mouth formed in an enormous ‘O’.

 

“I gotta get back to work, thank you for returning the coat, Pen. I’ll talk to you later!” Grace smiled and hurried off towards the employees’ locker room to secure the coat while she completed her shift.

 

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The elevator stopped at the sixth floor and the door opened to admit Dr. Spencer Reid into the BAU office for the first time since his injury almost three weeks earlier. He was walking unaided, albeit rather slower than his normal pace and the first person to become aware of his arrival was his best friend.

 

JJ squealed in delight and raced across the foyer to greet him,

 

“Welcome back!” she hugged him carefully. Moments later, the entire team descended upon him, eager to embrace his return. After a few minutes of happy chatter, Garcia indicated they had a case and they convened to the conference room.

 

“Are you well enough to travel?” Prentiss took Reid aside to ask.

 

“Don’t think I’ll be pursuing a suspect in a chase, but I’m okay to fly, Emily. And consult.” He looked around the table to the others and said, “And I’m still waiting for all the butt jokes.”

 

Rossi shook his head, “Not happening, Kid.”

 

“Everybody, have a seat please,” Prentiss invited.

 

“Except you, Reid. Maybe you’d prefer to stand?” Rossi smiled.

 

They all laughed, even Reid, then Prentiss directed, “All right, let’s do this.”  Looking up, she addressed their analyst. “What have we got, Garcia?”

 

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A warm breeze drifted through the downtown DC streets and Grace was happy that she’d made the decision to walk to work Monday morning. It was a short shift; she was slated to handle the nurses’ station and communications until one p.m. 

 

As had become customary, she received several texts from Penelope over the course of the day, telling her about the BAU’s location and general information about their case. Today’s messages had let her know that Spencer and his teammates were going to Glendale, Arizona to help the city’s police department catch a serial killer with an apparent appetite for young mothers. Garcia didn’t get too specific about the cases, it wasn’t allowed; in any case, Grace preferred not to know the details anyway. It was Garcia who routinely texted her to let her know if the team was going to be out of town overnight and when they were returning. 

 

Spencer tried to keep Grace updated but more often then not, he was busy with the case and tended to text her long after Garcia had already made her aware of any situation.

 

As she walked along the sidewalk after work, she noticed she was approaching the Chinese restaurant she and Spencer favoured. Grace considered getting take-out for lunch and decided against doing so. It was _their_ spot and it seemed wrong to indulge in their favourite without Spencer being there to share. Lunch, she decided, would just be leftover soup and a sandwich when she got home.

 

She crossed the street and decided to walk through the park towards her building. Digging through her purse, she found her earphones and decided music would be the perfect accompaniment for the walk home. Turning _Megadeth_ up as loud as it could go, Grace headed for the open trail and remembered not to sing aloud as she walked. Despite the beautiful weather, nobody else appeared to be in the park and Grace appreciated the solitude, even if the music defied that ideal. Children would still be in school, she realised. 

 

A group of three young men were following along behind her, engaged in a lively discussion about baseball playoffs. Grace was unaware of their presence, _Megadeth_ proved to be an effective distraction.

 

About half way home, it occurred to her that she’d left Spencer’s coat in her locker. She grumbled and debated momentarily whether to return to Hetherington’s to retrieve it and then decided against that, knowing that her bed at home still carried Spencer’s scent. That thought brought her around to her earlier conversation with Garcia. She couldn’t help but laugh as she recalled the look on Garcia’s face when Penelope inferred that Spencer slept with Grace. She wondered how his first day back at work was going.

 

Grace noticed two young men about fifty feet ahead of her, laughing and walking in her direction. They appeared to be around eighteen, and as they walked one would playfully shove the other and then the second one would reciprocate. This went back and forth until just before they reached her.

 

She slowed her pace as they approached and stepped towards the right side of the path to allow them to pass her unencumbered but as the pair reached her, they suddenly grabbed at her, knocking her to the ground and sending her earphones and purse flying. One of them kicked her in the stomach. She resisted her natural desire to fight back and instinctively curled into the fetal position to protect herself. The other punk was leaning down to retrieve her purse and as he opened it to look for valuables Grace noticed, for the first time, the young trio who had coming up behind her. The tallest and largest of the three threw himself at the punk who had kicked Grace and shouted at him, 

 

“Pickin’ on a woman, you coward!” He punched the offender and as he moved his fist back to line up a second punch, Grace got a good look at his face. _It was the young Latino man to whom Spencer had given their Chinese food leftovers,_ she realised. Grace’s assailant kicked her again as he scrambled to move away from the leader of the trio. She struggled to catch her breath and fought a wave of nausea as she tried to memorise faces. _Punk One, about eighteen, five ten, dark haired, medium build. Punk Two, also about eighteen a little shorter, dark haired but lighter than the other, stockier build. Heroes, those three boys, the blond Caucasian, the shorter Asian, and the Hispanic leader…_ she lost consciousness.

 

  The Latino youth punched her assailant again, and the second punch knocked him out cold. He turned to see how his friends were faring with the other punk who was busy fleeing the scene with Grace’s purse. The Asian boy would have none of that and chased after him.

 

“Get him Kenny!” shouted the Caucasian youth, knowing that Kenny was the fastest runner he’d ever seen. He turned to the Latino and asked,

 

“Is she gonna be all right, Carlos?”

 

Carlos was now kneeling next to Grace, gently trying to bring her around. “Got any water left, Dave?” he asked.

 

Dave shrugged off his backpack and removed a well-worn and much reused bottle of water from its depths. He handed it to Carlos who poured a little into his hand and patted Grace’s face with it. 

 

Kenny returned at that moment, Grace’s iPhone in his hand. They could hear police and ambulance sirens in the distance and as they got closer, Kenny explained.

 

“I called 9-1-1. But he had too much of a head start, I waited too long. He got away with her purse, but he dropped this. Her phone, I think?” he handed the device to Carlos who touched the home button. The phone applications were locked against use, but the home screen displayed a picture of Spencer, whom Carlos immediately recognised.

 

“It’s the guy who gave us the Chinese food that night! Remember?” he exclaimed, showing the two others the photo.

 

“And this is his girlfriend. You were right, Dave, it _is_ her.”

 

“I never forget a face.”

 

“Good! Did you get a good look at the goon that got away?”

 

“Sure did. I’ll have a description ready for the cops.”

 

Behind them, the punk who had assaulted Grace was starting to come around and Carlos reached over and punched him again, knocking him out once more.

 

“He deserved that,” Kenny justified on Carlos’ behalf. He turned and told the others, “I’m gonna run up and meet up with the cops, show them where she is.”

 

Carlos continued to try and bring Grace around and as he did so, the police arrived with Kenny and the EMS personnel were right behind them.

 

To their utter surprise and dismay, the four police officers handcuffed Kenny, Carlos and Dave as the EMS attended to Grace. After a preliminary examination, they determined it was safe to move her, and secured Grace to a backboard before lifting her up onto the gurney. The three young men protested their detainment to no avail. 

 

The unconscious assailant was coming around and EMS attended to him. As they did so, Grace started to regain consciousness.

 

She immediately tried to speak and the EMS attendant shushed her. Looking around, her eyes locked with Carlos’. She recognised him and again tried to speak. Carlos told the police officer holding onto his arm,

 

“Her iPhone is in my pocket, Sir.”

 

“Stealing her phone too?” the officer clucked with disgust.

 

“No, man,” Kenny protested, “I chased after the other guy, I _told_ you that. I called you on her phone! Why would we call you guys if _we_ were the bad guys?”

 

“You’re not under arrest—yet. We’re taking all three of you in for questioning.”

 

“Where’s the victim’s purse?” one of the other cops demanded.

 

“His partner—“ Dave motioned at the other punk with an inclination of his head “—got away with it.” 

 

“We’ll take you clowns down to the station and see if you can keep your stories straight!” remarked the first cop.

 

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	9. Chapter 9

“Penelope Garcia?” asked the voice on the other end after Garcia answered her ringing cellphone. The caller ID indicated it was an unknown caller but it was Penelope’s special line for the team that was ringing.

 

Warily, she asked, “Who is calling please?”

 

“This is Captain Andrew Jacobs, DCPD.”

Still suspicious, Garcia plugged her phone into her computer and ran a trace on it. The call did originate from the downtown police precinct; she determined the call was legitimate and said

 

“This is Penelope Garcia, what can I do for you?”

 

“Ma’am, your number was the last number to receive a text from a phone that has come into our possession.”

 

He paused and Garcia gasped, and quickly checked her text messages. The only one she’d received today was from Grace, acknowledging her own text that Reid and the team weren’t going to be back to DC tonight.

 

“Oh my goodness,” she responded.

 

“The phone’s battery gave out before we could find any sort of emergency contact information on it. We’re trying to determine the young woman’s name—“

 

“Grace. Grace O’Halloran. Oh my goodness, what’s happened?”

 

“She’s a friend of yours, I take it?”

 

“Yes! Oh my god, what happened?”

 

“Well ma’am, she was the victim of a mugging earlier today and we’re trying to find her next of kin, emergency contact.”

“That’d be Spencer,” Garcia supplied.

 

“Husband?” Captain Jacobs asked.

 

“Not yet,” Garcia burbled, “Um. Boyfriend. Um. He works with me.”

“Is he there, can I speak with him?”

 

“Uh, no. Sir? Spencer Reid is out of town at the moment.” Garcia agonised for a moment, giving out a team member’s private cell phone number was against the rules. 

 

Captain Jacobs spoke up, “Miss Garcia, I’m aware this is an FBI number.”

 

“It is,” Garcia admitted, realising he would already have had that information. “Spencer Reid is an agent here.”

 

“I thought the name sounded familiar.” 

 

“I can contact him ASAP and let him know.”

 

“I’d appreciate that. Miss Garcia, would it be possible for you to meet me at the hospital where Miss O’Halloran’s been taken.”

 

“Absolutely! I’ll try to contact Reid—Spencer—and be right over!”

 

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Garcia raced to her car, calling Reid on his cell phone as she ran. Her call went straight to voicemail. Frustrated, she left him a message,

 

“Spencer! It’s Garcia, Please call me right away! Urgent!”

 

She sent him a text for good measure, and called and left Prentiss a message as well, and then, reaching Esther, climbed into her car and sped away. Fifteen minutes later, after pulling into a parking spot and slamming her car door shut, Penelope raced into the Emergency Department of the hospital and made her way to the nurses’ station.

 

Before she could even introduce herself, two DC officers approached her.

 

“Miss Garcia?” 

 

She recognised his voice immediately and responded, “Captain Jacobs! Where’s Grace? Is she all right? I called Spencer but it went to voicemail, I left him a message. And I texted him. And I called our boss too—“

 

He ushered her to the examination room in which Grace was being attended, followed closely by the second police officer, a female. They could hear her talking to somebody as they approached the room.

 

“I’m all right. It was just a little kick to the stomach. He knocked the wind out of me and I’m just _fine._ ”

 

 _Feisty girl_ , Garcia smiled, immediately relieved to know that Grace wasn’t too badly hurt if she was kicking up a storm with whoever was unlucky enough to be crossing her at the moment. 

 

Captain Jacobs knocked at the door and it opened immediately. 

Garcia pushed her way into the room and reached Grace, who was sitting up on the exam room bed.

 

“Grace! Are you okay?” she opened her arms to indicate the intention to hug her friend, which Grace immediately reciprocated.

 

“I’m _fine!_ If they would only just let me out of here.”

 

The doctor spoke up, “Miss O’Halloran, you were unconscious when the emergency personnel found you—“

 

“I know, I know,” she made a face and recited, “Unconscious patients must be transported to the clinic or hospital for assessment by a medical doctor.” The doctor’s eyes widened and Grace supplied, “I’m a nurse. I know the rules. And I’m telling you, aside from a little bruise and a bit of pain, I am _just fine.”_

 

“At any rate, the police would like to question you about the assault. Is that okay, are you up for that?” he asked her.

 

“Absolutely!” she seethed. “Get those two punks.” 

 

Captain Jacobs introduced Officer Amy Robertson and told Grace that she would be the reporting officer, conducting the investigation. He nodded at the doctor and thanked Garcia for her help and left.

 

Officer Robertson pulled up a chair and sat beside Grace.

 

“You said two punks?”

 

Grace nodded. Robertson consulted her notes and said,

“We’ve taken three young men in for questioning. Another young man was also assaulted was treated and released.” She didn’t mention this young man was also detained.

 

“No,” Grace protested.

 

“One was found standing over you, another was in possession of your iPhone.”

 

Grace shook her head. _This wasn’t how she was remembering it at all._

 

“Can you tell me what happened? Describe your assailant?”

 

“There were two of them,” Grace insisted. ”They were walking towards me. When we reached each other, I stepped aside but they grabbed me and knocked me down.” She paused for a moment, trying to remember everything. “The first guy, the one who kicked me, was white, about eighteen. I’d say about five feet ten with dark hair and a medium kind of build. The second guy. He grabbed my purse. He was also white, about the same age but not quite as tall and had lighter hair than the first guy, but still brown. He was a little heavier than the guy who kicked me too.”

 

Robertson took notes and frowned. This wasn’t at all consistent with the three young men detained at the police station.

 

“I’ll be right back,” Officer Robertson said as she opened the door and left.

 

Garcia patted Grace’s hand, “You did great, you did great,” she reassured her friend. Garcia’s phone pinged the arrival of a text message. She extracted the device from her oversize purse and read it, then frowned.

 

“What’s the matter, Penelope?”

 

“I haven’t been able to reach anybody, and by anybody I mean Spencer, to let him know what happened.” She waved the phone and said, “He didn’t call me like I asked but he sent a text telling me he’s been texting you and not getting an answer. Apparently, he’s still out in the field on the case.”

 

She held her phone up in front of her face and said in a stern voice, “You were supposed to _call_ me 187. Call. Me.”

 

Grace couldn’t help but laugh. Garcia sent Reid a text reply, asking again that he call her as soon as possible.

 

The door opened and the doctor reappeared.

 

“Are you able to walk?”

 

Grace wasn’t fooled. What he really meant was, _can you walk unaided and without passing out._

 

She slid down off the bed and proved she was just fine.

 

“All right then, I will release you. But the police would like you to go down to the station, Miss O’Halloran. Is that within your ability right now?”

 

Grace turned her face away so the doctor wouldn’t see it and rolled her eyes for Garcia’s benefit. Turning back to the doctor, she pasted a smile on her face and said in the most fake, sweet voice she could muster, “I’ll be just fine, Doctor.”

 

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Officer Robertson ushered Penelope and Grace into a small room at the police station. As they waited, the door opened again and in walked Detective William LaMontagne Jr.

 

“Will!” Garcia exclaimed. 

 

“Penelope,” he acknowledged her and turned to Grace, “Grace. Y’all okay? Wha’ th’ hell happened?” He waved a police report in one hand.

 

Grace reiterated what she’d told Robertson earlier and Will asked them to come with him. A short walk down a hallway brought them to a large window that Garcia recognised as one-way glass. 

 

He gestured at the window. Grace stepped up to it and Will motioned to Garcia to leave the room. She complied immediately. 

 

“Grace?” he asked neutrally.

 

She recognised the young man in the room. He was being questioned it appeared, by another officer and after allowing Grace to carefully observe him for a moment Will asked,

 

“You know him?”

 

“Well, I don’t know his name, Will, but I do recognise him. He was with two friends outside a restaurant I was at with Spencer a couple of weeks ago. We’d ordered way too much food, and Spence gave it to this guy and his two friends.”

 

“Could ya identify th’ friends?”

 

“One was blond, Caucasian, a little taller than Spence but not as thin. The other one was Asian, short dark hair.”

 

Will nodded, “Okay.”

 

“They were _helping_ me, Will. This boy,” she waved a hand to indicate the Latino behind the glass, “was the one who stopped the other guy from kicking me.”

 

“Yer sure?” 

 

“Yes,” she stated, unequivocally.

 

“Awright, then.” He took her arm and took her down the hallway to the next room with one-way glass. 

 

“This guy?”

 

“He’s the Asian friend.”

 

Again they walked down the hallway and again they stopped at a window.

 

Grace gave an involuntary gasp. “That’s the one that kicked me!” She took several deep breaths to calm herself and Will moved her away from the window.

 

“Okay. Okay, Grace. Sorry ‘bout that, but we hadda be sure.”

 

She relaxed and put a hand to her mouth. “Sorry about that, Will.”

 

“Not at all, Grace. S’okay. We’re sorry ta put you through this.”

 

A door down the hallway opened, and the Latino youth was led out by the police officer.

 

He saw her and immediately called down the hallway, “Hey, Miss, you okay?”

 

Grace smiled and nodded. Will indicated she should stay and he approached the officer with Carlos. They spoke for a moment and the officer undid Carlos’ handcuffs.

 

“Let th’ other two go too, Sherman, she ID’d ‘em all as th’ ones who helped her. Will waved a hand at the third window, “An’ arrest th’ clown in there. _He’s_ th’ one she says did this.”

 

“Got it, boss,” the officer called Sherman said and disappeared to do as he was told. 

 

Will took Grace and Carlos to his office, stopping to retrieve Kenny and Dave as well. They found Garcia sitting outside Will’s office and the entire group assembled inside.

 

“Penelope Garcia, Grace O’Halloran,” he introduced the women, turned and introduced the young men, “Kenny Wong, Dave Carmichael and Carlos Delgado.”

 

“Thank you for speakin’ up for us,” Carlos said, offering his hand. “We’re happy to see you’re all right.”

 

Grace took his hand and thanked him for intervening and rescuing her. 

 

“It was only right. You guys,” she paused to shake the other youths’ hands as well, “You guys might have saved my life. Thank you. So much.”

 

The office door opened and Robertson poked her head through it. “Miss O’Halloran’s phone?” she waved the item in question and reached out to hand it back to its owner.

 

“Y’all are free ta go,” Will told the three youths. “Thank you for yer cooperation in th’ investigation.”

 

“Hey, no problem, man—uh Sir,” Carlos replied. “Gotta do your jobs.”

 

“’preciate yer understandin’,” Will said, opening the door to usher them out.

 

Garcia waited for them to leave and turned to Grace, “I got another text from Spencer, but you have your phone back so I think you better call him ASAP, girlfriend.”

 

Will returned and offered to get the women coffee. Both declined and a thought crossed Grace’s mind, “Will, what did you say that Latino boy’s name was?”

 

“Uh, Carlos. Carlos Delgado. Why?”

 

“I. Just—um, do you have a contact number for him?”

 

“I don’t but youth services might. Why?”

 

“I’m just—I’m not sure, I need to talk to Spence.”

 

“Awright, then, ladies. I really need ta get back ta work.”

 

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	10. Chapter 10

As Garcia drove, Grace reassured her friend that she was fine. “I had the wind knocked out of me. That’s all. There’s a bruise. Honestly, Penelope.”

 

“I have to confess,” Garcia said in a small voice, as she kept her attention on the road and avoided eye contact with Grace.

 

“What?”

 

“I did finally get a hold of Spencer. He’s on the way back from Arizona now.”

 

“You didn’t! He isn’t! Penelope!”

 

“I did and he is. I was trying to get him a commercial flight back ASAP but it just wasn’t coming together so I called Emily and she’s sending him back on the jet.”

 

Grace realised then that they weren’t headed towards her apartment. Instead, Garcia had wheeled onto the exit that would take them to the airport where the jet would be landing.

 

“You,” Grace paused, not sure whether she should be angry or grateful. Maybe both, she decided.

 

“Stinker?” Garcia supplied.

 

“No. But what did you tell him?”

 

“The truth, Grace. You were mugged but it was interrupted by a couple of Good Samaritans and you’re okay but he should get his cute little newly scarred butt back here anyway.” 

 

Grace couldn’t argue with Penelope’s reasoning. And apparently, Emily was agreement. Garcia stole a quick glance at her watch.

 

“And his flight should be arriving in about forty-five minutes. Your phone, Grace. Did you call him?”

 

“Battery’s dead.”

 

Garcia rolled her eyes.

 

“Hello? Charger!” 

 

“It’s at home.”

 

“There’s one in my purse, Lady Avoidance.”

 

“I am not avoiding. It’s just, well, he’ll be here in less than an hour anyway.”

 

“That still sounds like avoidance to me, but okay. Your call. Or your _not_ call. As the case may be. Just know, I did my part. I told him I would tell you to call him ASAP.”

 

“It’s okay, Penelope. I will take full responsibility for my lack of compliance.”

 

“Thank you. I cannot stand to have Boy Wonder angry with me.”

 

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The ladies watched the jet land and spent an interminable fifteen minutes waiting for Spencer to disembark. When the jet’s door open and he finally emerged through it, Grace looked to Penelope standing next to her and Penelope gave her an encouraging smile.

 

“Go! Go get him,” she bubbled, giving Grace a gentle push. That was all the encouragement Grace needed, she burst forward and raced across the tarmac to the jet’s staircase.

 

Spencer’s face lit up in a smile when he caught sight of her. Gingerly but with an increased pace, he made his way down the stairs and enveloped her in an enormous hug when they met at the bottom, letting his go bag hit the ground.

 

He held her close for a long moment, stroking her hair, searching her eyes and wanting to see for himself that she was okay.

 

“I’m good, honest. Look,” she said, disengaging from the hug and twirling around once to show him. He reached out and pulled her back into the hug, needing the contact for reassurance.

 

Looking over her face, he traced the light bruise along her cheek caused by the fall when she was attacked. Hugging her against him once more he kissed the top of her head, not caring who witnessed it. 

 

Finally, after convincing himself that Grace was okay, he picked up his go bag from the tarmac in one hand, held Grace’s hand tightly in his other, and stepped away from the base of the stairs.

 

They joined Garcia who had discreetly (as discreetly as Garcia would be considered capable of) waited at the gate entrance and together the threesome made their way to Penelope’s car.

 

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“Nope,” Grace insisted. “I am not calling off for work tomorrow. I am fine.” She returned from her kitchen bearing two mugs of coffee and set those on down on the coffee table, then retook her seat on the sofa.

 

Spencer sat next to her, trying to reason with her.

 

“You’ve just been through a traumatic experience!”

 

She leaned over and kissed him to shut him up, twining her hands into his hair and parting his lips with her own. They kissed for a long moment, leaving them both breathless and when they finally broke apart for air, Spencer was left with the realisation that he had just lost yet another battle of wills with his stubborn girlfriend. 

 

“You’re absolutely _sure_ you’re okay?” he tried one last time.

 

“Spencer Reid, I swear to God, I am—“ she paused to take a breath, reconsidered her rant and dropped the acerbic tone from her voice. Almost quietly, she pronounced, “I am okay, Spence. Really. There’s a little bruise here from where I fell,” she touched the side of her face. “And another one here,” she indicated a spot on the left side of her torso, “but there’s nothing wrong with me. Nothing necessitating a day off work.” She captured his gaze, looked him straight in the eyes and said, “Trust me. Please.”

 

He held her gaze for a moment, and then acquiesced. “All right,” he conceded. 

 

“Penelope really shouldn’t have made it sound so serious. There was no reason for you to rush back here.”

 

“Grace, there was every reason for me to rush back here. Garcia did the right thing, letting me know.”

 

She didn’t want to get into an argument over this and deep down, was thrilled that he’d dropped everything and headed home to her when he’d found out what happened. 

 

“Spence, don’t get me wrong, I’m touched that you came home immediately.”

 

This time, Spencer shushed her with a kiss. 

 

The coffee mugs were long since drained, refilled and emptied again as the couple sat together and discussed Grace’s close call.

 

She’d related the entire incident to him—leaving out a few details—and Reid was astounded to hear about her rescuers. 

 

“And Kenny, Dave and Carlos came out of nowhere to help me. Carlos took down the guy kicking me, and Kenny ran after the other guy. He got away, but Kenny recovered my phone.” The device in question sat in its charger on the small table beside the sofa.

 

“The same three guys we gave the Chinese food to?” he remarked, incredulous. He wondered briefly why they’d be in the park but realised, as homeless youth, it was quite possible they hung out there regularly. Perhaps they even sheltered there. 

 

He hugged her close to him, “I’m glad they were there.”

 

“And I’m glad you’re here now.”

 

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“You’re working tomorrow, and I’m gonna call and check in with Emily, Grace, so I’m gonna go home now.” He rose and extended his hand to help her up, then drew her into his arms and kissed her goodbye. 

 

“Want a ride home?” she offered again. Declining again, he shook his head _no_ and left, hailing a cab when he reached the street.

 

After Spencer left, Grace realised she’d forgotten to mention the boys’ last names and that she’d wondered if there was some way to find out if Carlos Delgado was related to his late prison friend Luis Delgado.

 

“Dammit,” she said aloud, and made a mental note to ask Spencer later. As she cleared away the mugs, she realised she would have to start the tedious process of cancelling her credit cards and reporting her driver’s license and other items missing. Sighing, she reached for her phone and began making calls. 

 

Despite the late hour, the building superintendent soon arrived at her apartment door with a locksmith who changed the lock and the deadbolt on her front door. He completed the job in short order and Grace took possession of the new keys. Her building superintendent gave her four new access cards for the front and side entrances and said he’d take care of deactivating the old ones. 

 

As the taxi approached his apartment building, Reid called Prentiss. Receiving the answer he had anticipated, he had the cab driver take him back to the airport. En route, he called the jet’s pilot to apprise him and in less than an hour, Spencer Reid was in the air on his way back to the BAU team in Glendale, Arizona.

 

“I hope Emily doesn’t catch flak for spending the FBI’s money flying me back and forth like this,” he said aloud as he stretched out on the long seat in the jet, planning to sleep for the duration of the flight.

 

Early the next morning, Grace’s phone rang. She noticed the caller ID indicated ‘unknown number’ and hesitantly picked it up.

 

The female voice on the other end said, “Grace O’Halloran? This is Officer Amy Robertson, DCPD.”

 

Breathing a sigh of relief, Grace recognised her voice and replied, “Hello, Officer. How are you?”

 

“Amy, please. I’m just great. And I should be asking you that, ma’am. How are you doing? Are you all right?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“And I have news for you that should make you feel even better. Your purse was turned in last night by the parents of a couple of young boys who were biking in the park after school. I’m pretty sure it’s yours because it fits the description you gave us. Your keys and cosmetics and stuff were still in it. And Detective LaMontagne found and arrested the other one of your assailants. The dumbass was trying to use your credit card to buy a leather jacket down in Dupont Circle. Will found your wallet on the little jerk and we think it’s pretty much intact, except for any cash you may have had. Your driver’s license, your nursing ID, that stuff is all still in there.”

 

“Oh that is great news!”

 

“The first kid we detained gave up his friend,” she explained how he’d come to be arrested. “I’ll come by and drop off your stuff, if that’s okay.”

 

“That is so okay!” Grace enthused. As soon as the call was disconnected, Grace sent texts to both Spencer and Penelope to tell them the good news. Minutes later, she received a reply from Penelope, a short _yay_ accompanied by half a dozen smiley emoji.

 

  Her intercom announced a visitor and after confirming it was Amy Robertson, Grace buzzed the officer in. 

 

They shook hands and Amy handed over Grace’s purse, asking her to check to see if anything was missing.

 

Grace did a quick inventory and a smile stretched across her face.

 

“I can’t believe it! Everything’s here except for the twenty-something dollars I might have had in here,” she said, waving her wallet. “And my car keys! Hurray. Cause that would have been in real pain in the butt to have replaced.”

 

Amy nodded her agreement and seeing the electronic key fob said, “Not to mention expensive!”

 

“Even my headphones!” she was surprised to find those in the purse.

 

“Oh, that’s an oversight. Sorry. One of those boys, I think it was Dave Carmichael? He picked them up off the ground to give back to you and in the confusion they just got forgotten. He stopped by the department last night to return them.”

 

“Thank you so much,” Grace told her.

 

“I was wondering, though, if it’s not too weird to ask, Grace. You were obviously attentive and observant, getting such good descriptions of your attackers and your Good Samaritans.”

 

Grace nodded effusively, “Boyfriend’s in law enforcement. I learned.”

 

“Oh, that’s right. Agent Reid, correct? From the Behavioural Analysis Unit?”

 

Grace nodded again. 

 

“But you had your headphones on?”

 

“Yeah I did.” Blushing, she remembered that she hadn’t revealed _that_ particular fact to Spencer when she’d related her experience. “Honestly, I know to keep vigilant, Offi—Amy. But. Stupid me, it was like, one-thirtyish in the afternoon, I really didn’t think that through, did I? I’ve always kinda thought that vigilance thing was for nighttime. Won’t make that mistake again.”

“Glad to hear it. I’m just very happy to know you’re all right Grace, and that we were able to recover almost everything.”

 

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	11. NOTE: Rating changes to M from here on... just to be safe

The next three days seemed long for Grace. Her shifts at work passed quickly and uneventfully enough but Spencer had made the trip back and forth from DC to Arizona three times in one and a half days and almost immediately after the most recent return to the nation’s capital, the BAU team had been called in to a case in Minneapolis, sending them on yet another long haul trip. 

Communication between Grace and Spencer had been limited to a few text messages: hastily conducted between work shifts and his travel. Compounded by late hours and the time zone differences, they had been unable to connect directly, either on the phone or via Skype. 

Late Thursday evening she returned home after work and settled herself into her recliner with a glass of wine and her newly purchased laptop computer. Penelope had accompanied Grace out to the Apple Store in Georgetown and helped her pick out a suitable Macbook earlier in the week. She’d set the device up for Grace and along with sending her all kinds of cute kitten and puppy pictures, Penelope provided her with every Garcia-approved item ever published about Spencer. All his doctoral theses, articles he’d written, presentations he’d made and an innumerable amount of photographs of him. Grace wasn’t sure whether to laugh and be impressed by Garcia’s thoroughness, or afraid of just how deep this woman could reach.

As she was enjoying the Garcia-produced journey of his life chronicled in photos, her phone sounded the ringtone indicating that Spencer was calling. 

“Spence!” she cried happily.

“Grace. I’m so sorry we haven’t been able to talk.”

“It’s all right, we’ve both been busy. At least we have texts!”

“You wouldn’t believe how much I look forward to seeing those after being on the case all day.”

“Aw, Spencer,” she empathised. “It’s the same for me.”

They chatted for a few minutes; Grace assured him his mother was fine and he told her the team’s case was progressing well. 

“I was just thinking about us, Spence,” Grace began, “We’ve been seeing each other for three months now.”

“Best three months of my life,” he told her honestly. “We should celebrate.”

“I’d like that. I’ll make us a special dinner,” she proposed.

“And I’d love that,” he replied enthusiastically.

“Tomorrow night?” she asked.

“That would be great. I’m hoping we’re home some time tomorrow. I’ll let you know, Grace, how the day’s going.” 

“Absolutely! Call or text, whatever’s possible.”

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Pinot Grigio was chilling in her refrigerator, and a bottle of Merlot sat on the dining room table next to a pair of Grace’s favourite wine glasses. She wasn’t sure if he preferred red or white and made sure she had both on hand and ready to go. Nothing was going to go wrong tonight, she vowed. Not this time. She checked on the lasagna baking in the oven, mixed the Parmesan into the Caesar salad dressing and set that aside and then checked her table setting once again. 

A quick glance at her wall clock told her that Spencer’s flight should have landed by now and he’d be on his way to her apartment. Sure enough, as she made her way back into the kitchen, she heard her cell phone beep an alert. A smile crossed her face as she read the text: on my way, ETA fifteen minutes. He’d texted her a few hours earlier, telling her they’d apprehended their unsub and were in the process of filling out paperwork and finishing other details. The team would be flying back to DC later that afternoon and he should be back in time for their three-month anniversary dinner.

Grace opened a kitchen drawer in which she kept odds and ends and pulled out a box of wooden matches. Carefully, she lit the dozen taper candles she had placed strategically around the living and dining rooms and on the dining room table. From her china cabinet, she took half a dozen pillar candles and hurried to the bedroom. She set three down on the dresser and left several of the matches next to them. Beside the candles sat a small ring with her spare keys and a security access card. The other three candles she carried into the en suite bathroom and set down on the vanity with another handful of matches.

Back in the living room, she flipped the stereo on, found a low key jazz station and turned the volume down to a background level, then headed into the kitchen to put together a small platter of olives and pickles and check on her lasagna once again. Satisfied it was all ready to go, she made a trip into the bathroom, and took a small paper shopping bag out of the vanity drawer there, setting it beside several freshly laundered towels.

As she made her way back to the kitchen, the intercom on the wall rang letting her know she had a visitor. Hitting the mic button, she asked, “Spence?”

“Um, this is Dr. Reid. I believe you’re expecting me ma’am?” He affected a formal tone of voice but by the time he got to ‘ma’am’ he was laughing.

She broke out laughing herself and replied, “Don’t call me ma’am!” as she hit the sequence on the keypad to unlock the door and admit him. Suddenly nervous, she checked her makeup and hair in the mirror hanging by the front door and smoothed out the imaginary wrinkle in the skirt of her dress. 

“Good god, what am I? Sixteen?” she shook her head self deprecatingly and hurried to the kitchen, not wanting to give the appearance that she was waiting anxiously by the door. 

A few minutes later, a knock sounded at the door and she counted silently to five then moved calmly to answer it. She opened the door and was greeted by an enormous bouquet of pink flowers; a huge assortment of roses, carnations, freesia, and others that Grace could not identify. The floral arrangement was lowered to reveal Spencer and he held the flowers out to her. She took them from him, curling one arm around them as she reached out to touch his face with her other hand and leaned in to kiss him.

“Thank you. I’ve missed you,” she said in a low voice. 

“Missed you too,” he replied. “It’s been a long three days.” He took her hand in his and continued, “I came straight from the airport. That florist next door to your building here is really convenient.”

“Happy three months’ anniversary,” he smiled.

“Happy three months, indeed,” she replied.

A smile stretched across her face for a moment before disappearing when she noticed Spencer trying to stifle a yawn.

“Anyway, I came straight here, and I uh,” he hurried to cover up another yawn. “Would you mind terribly if I took a shower and changed into my other clothes?” He indicated his go bag. “Would that be too, I dunno, weird? I mean, well, you look great. And I, um, I’ve spent the last three days at crime scenes or on a plane. I’m really not date ready.”

“Aw, Spencer. It’s not weird at all. Absolutely, if you’d be more comfortable,” she led him through the bedroom to the en suite bathroom and patted the towels on the vanity. She stepped back out of the bathroom, “You can change here,” she indicated the bedroom. “I’ll go put these in water and get the rest of dinner together. Oh! White wine or red?”

“Red, please,” he answered, following her back into the bedroom and setting his go bag on the floor beside her bed. He undid his tie and she pulled on the doorknob as she left, leaving the door slightly ajar as she replied,

“It’ll be waiting for you.” 

She found a vase in the kitchen and put the flowers in water, then took the arrangement over to the dining room table and set it down as a centerpiece. Moving the candles out of the way, she quickly changed one of the place settings so that the two of them would be sitting side by side rather than across the table from each other.

After assembling the salad, she took the bowl out to the dining table as well. Opening the red wine, she poured them each a glassful. Ten minutes later, Grace noticed the shower was not yet running and puzzled, she made her way to the bedroom.

Knocking quietly, she called out to him in a whisper, “Spencer? Spence, are you all right?”

She received no answer and for an instant weighed her options. Part of her worried that something was wrong, and another part didn’t wish to intrude on his privacy. She stood at her bedroom door and knocked before calling out again in a loud whisper “Spence?”

Her nurse instinct kicked in and Grace pushed the door open. Was she going to find him in some sort of medical distress? Her heart was in her throat as she opened the door, and then it quickly melted. He was lying on his side on her bed; bent at the waist with his legs still hanging over the side, sound asleep. She stifled a giggle as a thought occurred to her, Poor guy, so tired he fell asleep sitting up and toppled over, his tie still in one hand.

Gently, she pried the tie from his right hand and laid it on top of his suit jacket, which was already laying on the wing chair set in one corner of the bedroom. He’d managed to take his shoes off, she noted, seeing the black Converse sneakers lined up neatly on the floor beside the wing chair. Carefully, so as not to disturb him, Grace swung his legs up onto the bed and straightened him out as best she could. She undid the first few buttons on his shirt and loosened the belt on his pants. Her face flushed with excitement as she withdrew her hands from his waist and she found herself stifling yet another giggle, this one in self-deprecation.

Grace pulled the comforter up from the other side of the bed and covered Spencer with it and then quietly padded out of the bedroom to let him sleep for a while.


	12. Chapter 12

She puttered around in the kitchen, turning the oven off but leaving the lasagna inside to keep warm. The salad and white wine were returned to the refrigerator and the taper candles on the dining room table were temporarily extinguished. She sat on the sofa and drank the glass of wine she’d poured for herself earlier while she played a game on her cellphone for a few minutes. After finishing the wine, she poured another glassful and decided to text Iris who was at work at Hetherington’s. Diana Reid was having a good night, Iris apprised her, as was Grace’s other favourite patient, Albert. They texted back and forth for several minutes and then Iris indicated it was time for her to give her patients their evening baths.

 

Grace swallowed the last of the second glass of wine and rose from the sofa. She poured another glass and realised the bottle was now empty. The glass she’d poured for Spencer earlier still sat on the dining room table. She retrieved another bottle from the cupboard in the kitchen and, noting there were only two more left, opened the grocery list app in her phone and added red wine to the ongoing shopping list therein. After opening the second bottle to allow it to breathe, Grace took her glass and headed back into the living room. On the way, she realised she needed to use the bathroom. Quietly made her way into the bedroom past the still sleeping Spencer to the bathroom. He’d been napping for about half an hour and as she emerged from the bathroom, Grace noticed he was stirring. Emboldened by the wine and the text conversation with Iris, Grace was struck by inspiration.

 

“Oh no,” she heard him chide himself. Fully awake now, he started to move and Grace hurried to the dining room to get their wine glasses, returning just as he’d managed to sit up. She sat down next to him and held his glass up to his lips. He leaned forward to sip from it then reached up with one hand and took the glass from her. 

 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Grace. I must’ve been more tired than I thought. I didn’t mean to fall asleep!”

 

She took a sip of her wine, lowered the glass and stared right into his eyes.

 

“You were exhausted, Dr. Reid, and needed the nap,” she said in as serious a tone as she could muster. He held her eye contact.

 

“It was incredibly rude of me—“

 

“Well then, the transgression will have to be atoned for, won’t it Dr. Reid?”

 

Twice in the space of seconds she’d called him Dr. Reid rather than Spencer. He wondered, for just the slightest instant, if she was angry with him but her body language—she was sitting right next to him and had her free hand on his knee—and the look in her eyes didn’t convey anger. Or amusement, he thought. More like, his own eyes widened as the answer came to him. 

 

Desire. Lust.  

 

 Saucily, she took another sip of her wine and glanced down at his glass indicating he should do the same. As he brought his glass up to his lips, Grace drained hers and set it down on the night table next to the bed. Her hands went to the front of his shirt and she proceeded to undo the rest of its buttons. He gasped and sputtered, choking on the wine momentarily before composing himself, taking another sip and putting a serious look on his face, reestablished eye contact with her.

 

“Tell me how I can make it up to you,” he directed, although he was already pretty certain what her intentions were, as she took his wine glass from him and set it down next to hers. She undid his shirt cuffs and slid her hands up his sides underneath the shirt until she reached his shoulders and deftly swept it off his body, tossing it aside. He shuddered as her hands returned to his chest and stroked along his ribcage.

 

“Be _patient_ for me.”

 

“I’m in no hurry.”

 

“The noun not the adjective,” she specified, laughing at her own joke.

 

His eyebrows rose.

 

“You’re not, what did you call it?” she paused momentarily to remember the phrase and it came to her, “date ready.”

 

“Right,” he nodded, and he slid a leg over the side of the bed, intending to get up, “I still need to take that shower.”

 

“I don’t think so.” She stopped him from getting up, putting a hand on his chest to stop him.

 

“I’m sorry Grace. Dinner’s waiting. You must be hungry.”

 

“I am. But not for dinner. That can wait.” She ran her fingers along his bare chest, her fingertips lightly brushing against his nipples and he caught his breath. She stood up, and commanded, “Stay right there. I’ll be right back,” as she disappeared into the bathroom.

 

 _Oh my god,_ Reid thought. _I don’t know if I’m ready for this._ They’d been seeing each other for three months now and he wanted very much to take their relationship to the next level but with the opportunity presenting itself he suddenly felt unprepared. He heard the water running, but only for a moment. Before he could think any further, Grace returned bearing a basin. She had several towels over one arm. The basin was set down on the night table and she quickly moved the empty wine glasses over to the top of her dresser before turning back to Spencer.

 

“Patient?”

 

“I’m very patient,” he started. Then, recalling what she’d said only a few minutes ago, amended “I’m your patient.”

 

“Doctors generally make lousy patients,” she declared.

 

“Not me. I will be the most patient patient,” he said with a straight face.

 

She laughed, “I’ll be right back,” and she rushed out to the dining room to retrieve the wine bottle. She lit the candles on the dresser and filled their wine glasses again. After sipping from hers, she set the glass back down on the dresser. Stepping back to the bed, she handed Spencer his replenished glass. He took a long sip then set the glass down carefully beside the basin. It was imperative to him that he not allow himself to become too inebriated. If this dream was to come true for him tonight, he wanted to be in full control of his faculties. 

 

“Sit back,” she directed him to lie, propped up by several pillows, against the backboard of the bed and he complied.

 

“I’m not being too bossy or aggressive?” she suddenly wondered aloud.

 

“Assertive. You’re assertive. It’s very attractive,” he told her honestly. He let out a small laugh, “You scare the crap out of Anderson.”

 

“I do? Oh dear.”

 

“Don’t worry. That’s pretty attractive too.”

 

His reward was a beaming smile and then the proclamation, “I’m gonna make you date ready.”

 

His eyebrows rose as he waited for an explanation.

 

“Sponge bath.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

His sharp intake of breath betrayed his excitement and his trepidation. She heard it and stifled a laugh. It occurred to her that she was going to enjoy this as much, if not more, than he did. It brought to mind a conversation she’d had with Maureen not long ago. Maureen was not naïve, she’d seen the way Grace’s face lit up when she spoke of Spencer or received a text or call. Maureen had called her on her attraction to him. They’d even joked about this very scenario after giving a patient a sponge bath one night. Grace smiled as she remembered the conversation: 

 

_“Bet you’d love to sponge bath Dr. Reid,” Maureen had teased._

 

_“He’d be sooooooo cleeeeaaaannn,” Grace shot back._

 

_“We’re soooooo unprofessional,” Maureen replied, dissolving them both into giggles._

 

Her thoughts returned to the present.

 

“Just lay back and relax,” she directed. “I’ve done hundreds of sponge baths on hundreds of patients, Spence. Relax,” she instructed. Although, she conceded silently, this one was _way_ different from any other. Like many men, he seemed somewhat apprehensive about being bathed by someone else. _Unlike_ any of her previous experiences though, _she_ was probably as anxious about it as he appeared to be. The trick, she reminded herself, was to distract, usually done with small talk. She dipped a deep pink facecloth into the basin of water and wrung it out then sat down on the bed next to him. Remembering his anxiety trigger with facecloths, she held it up in front of him and spoke in a softer voice,

 

“I want to start with your face, Spence. Okay?” She touched the cloth to his forehead, and stroked downward over his cheeks and jaw making sure not to cover his nose or mouth with it. She heard his sharp intake of breath and worried momentarily that he was flashing back to prison. 

 

“Spencer?” She could sense he was trembling and moved the cloth away from his face immediately, “Oh my god, sorry, I’m sorry. It’s okay.”

 

He brought his hand up to hers and carefully moved it back to his face. “It’s okay, Grace. I’m not having a flashback. I’m just—“ he paused to make eye contact with her, broke into a sheepish grin and whispered “a little turned on.”

 

She flashed a smile and finished washing his face, touching the cloth to the tip of his nose while maintaining eye contact, then took her hand away and moved in to softly kiss him once. She repeated the process along his throat and the nape of his neck, lifting his long hair out of the way with one hand. As she progressed to the side of his neck, she saw the small scar from his ‘Texas bullet wound.’ She remembered him telling her how he’d incurred this scar, as well as one on his left arm. She dabbed at it purposefully, leaning over to bestow a kiss along the marred skin before returning her attention to the basin and face cloth. 

 

After wringing the cloth out again, she proceeded to wash his arms and hands, one at a time, while holding eye contact with him the entire time, and engaging in the same kind of chatter she generally kept up with other patients. She kept a running commentary about what she was doing and noted happily that the tactic she employed with hospital patients was also working with Spencer. She broke off the eye contact briefly as she patted down his left arm and saw the other scar. Again she bent over and kissed along the mark. She felt his tenseness dissipate as she soaped and rinsed and patted dry first one arm then the other, one shoulder then the other.

 

“See, it doesn’t matter what you talk about with the patient, just that you engage their attention with the conversation and never stop looking them straight in the eye. You can talk about the weather or the ball game, the latest scientific innovations or which Doctor Who is the best one. Usually, I’ve known the patient for a few days at least, and have some idea as to what their interests are.” 

 

She was now soaping and rinsing his chest and noted his eyes were still trained on hers. It occurred to Grace that _she_ was the one who had to fight the urge to break eye contact to look down at his chest as she finished rinsing, took a clean towel from the small pile on the night table and started patting him dry. For a moment, her eyes drifted from his and she looked at his face just in time to see him lick his lips. As his tongue darted out of his mouth, she gasped involuntarily. When her eyes once again met his, she saw the smoldering there and could not stop herself. Grace leaned in and kissed him and felt a flood of warmth course through her as his lips parted and her tongue found its way into his mouth. She heard his impassioned moan and it only encouraged her. Letting the towels fall, she brought her hands up to cradle the back of his head as they deepened their kiss. Her fingers tangled into his hair and he pulled her closer.

 

They kissed until they were both breathless. Breaking off the kiss, she straightened up and picked up his wine glass. She tipped it to his lips and he finished the drink. Setting the glass back down, Grace gently dabbed at his lips with the face cloth. He kissed her hand as she finished.

 

“Sit forward,” she directed. “Please.”

 

He did as asked, and Grace bathed his back. She soaped and rinsed and patted him dry, then pulled the pillows away from the backboard and pushed him right down onto the bed. It was becoming more and more difficult for Spencer to be still and let Grace carry on. It was the first time Spencer had experienced this level of arousal and it left him feeling rather self-conscious.

 

The towels and facecloth were placed back on the night table and Grace turned her attention to Spencer’s pants. The belt which she’d loosened earlier to make his sleeping more comfortable, was now completely unbuckled. She carefully unzipped his trousers and pretended not to notice she’d awakened the sleeping giant as she drew the pants down past his thighs and calves and pulled them off, leaving him in just his briefs and mismatched socks.

 

“I have to be completely honest with you, Spencer,” she told him as she rinsed the face cloth in the basin and wrung it out again, “Hospital patient sponge baths don’t usually have an effect on _me.”_

 

“Uh huh?” he managed, trying not to react as she washed his legs. She paused at his left knee, finding yet another scar there and didn’t recall hearing about how he’d incurred this one. He saw that she was looking at it and waited as she gave it the same extra attention his other scars had received. Her fingers stroked the patella, and trailed a gentle line along the disfigured skin and she kissed it softly before resuming eye contact with Spencer, the question unspoken but obvious.

 

“I jumped to knock a man out of the way when the unsub was gonna shoot him,” he explained, “Surgery. Six months on crutches, and then a cane before I was fully back in commission. It was over seven years ago. But it’s all good now.”

 

She stood up and moved to his feet, taking off the socks and bathing them, then patted them dry. He was watching in rapt fascination and Grace realised he was watching _her_ not the progress of his sponge bath.

 

“That’s a really pretty dress you have on,” he started matter-of-factly, “And yet, here I am, practically naked.”

 

A smile stretched across her face as she stepped around the foot of the bed and approached the centre once again.

 

“Roll over, please, Spence. On your tummy.”

 

His jaw dropped but he complied, turning over and part of him was relieved he’d now at least be able to hide his arousal. He gasped when he felt her pull his underwear off but quickly covered it up, pushing his face into the pillow until he figured the shock had worn off. He let out a small chuckle; grateful that the pillow would muffle the sound as he thought about what was happening. _Never._ Never in a million years did he think the woman he loved would be bathing him like this. He felt the facecloth make its way across his butt and he twisted his fists into the bed sheets reactively. A moan that even the pillow couldn’t muffle followed when he registered that Grace was now running soap covered hands along his posterior and he had to lift his head out of the pillow because hyperventilation had set in and he was afraid he’d lose consciousness altogether. His chest heaved as he tried to slow his breathing down. Mercifully, the movement of her hands suddenly stopped. 

 

The room was silent for a moment. He strained his ears but could only hear the faint sound of the jazz coming from the stereo out in the living room, and the sound of Grace moving around in the bedroom. A minute passed and still the room was hushed. He moved to turn his head and brushed by the pillow again as he did so. For an instant, he was facedown in the pillow again and he heard Grace’s steps behind him. He lifted his head up again and was now facing the night table side of the bed. The basin still sat atop the table he noted but the towels were nowhere to be seen. 

 

The facecloth returned to his rear end, he noted and assumed it was the rinsing off segment of his bath. He waited it out, clenching the bed sheets in his hands once again as the face cloth was drawn away and the soft fluffy towel replaced it as Grace patted him dry.  _Rather more than was necessary,_ he noted happily. He was almost painfully aroused now and stretched his upper thighs to alleviate the discomfort somewhat. The towel was moved away, and Spencer felt the touch of Grace’s hand along the small of his back. He moaned with desire yet again and heard her throaty chuckle. 

 

She touched her mouth to the newest scar he’d acquired; the now almost healed mark left by his impulsive decision to dive and push JJ out of the way of a would-be killer’s bullet a month ago. Her lips pressed softly along his left buttock and, fearing he’d climax he began reciting the Fibonacci sequence to distract his mind from what was happening to his body. 

 

“One, one, two, three, five, eiiiiiiiiiii—“ he gasped as the sensation of Grace’s gentle kisses to his backside overrode his ability to think coherently. 

 


	14. Chapter 14

She heard him breathe deeply, in and out several times in succession and was elated to know she could affect him so profoundly. He was granted a few moments respite as she withdrew and he felt her weight lift off the bed. Thoughts of touching Grace as intimately as she had him ran through his mind and silently, he resumed reciting the Fibonacci sequence.

 

He heard paper crinkling followed by the sound of Grace deeply inhaling and exhaling.

 

“Mmmhmm,” he heard her say. It occurred to him that she was kneeling on the bed next to him, he could feel the skin of her bare legs against his thighs and it set his heart rate aflutter again. He gasped, in surprise and in delight, when he felt her hands rubbing along the length of his spine and he caught the scent of cinnamon and peppermint and something else he couldn’t identify. 

 

“Mmmhmm,” he repeated after her. “What is that?”

 

“That, my sweet man, is a massage bar I bought earlier today at _Lush._ This one’s got jojoba and coconut oils and shea butter in it for moisturizing. And aduki beans for the massage benefit. And it’s supposed to make you relax and get in the mood.”

 

“It’s working,” his gasp assured her.

 

“I know,” she laughed, as she continued her ministrations. He did have a knot in his left shoulder, she thought, just below the scapula and she paid special attention to massaging that spot. He groaned in protest but appreciated how much better the shoulder felt just minutes later.  

 

Somehow, even though Spencer couldn’t remember ever being this turned on, he managed to relax under Grace’s hands—until she asked him to turn over again. His eyes widened and she recognised his nervousness. 

 

“Here,” she started to hand him the facecloth, then drew it back and said, “Oh wait, that won’t be big enough,” and handed him a larger towel instead. “Now, turn over. Please.”

 

He felt a little sheepish, given what was obviously going to be happening at some point this night and as he started to roll over—towel in place covering his groin—he stopped mid-roll when he saw her and gasped.

 

Grace was standing next to the bed, apparently wearing only a slip, a lacy concoction that left little to the imagination. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind. Should he be looking at her? Was it rude to stare? Yes it was. Should he look away? Probably. _Could_ he? Difficult. Maintain eye contact. Nope. Not happening. How did he manage to be so lucky as to find Grace in his life? At what point would it be appropriate for him to tell her that he loved her? Where the hell did that come from? Could his mind come up with any more stupid questions? Is this what Garcia meant when she said he was clueless about the obvious? He watched transfixed as she climbed onto the bed.

 

“Scoot over,” she directed.

 

He lifted himself up enough to facilitate moving towards the centre of the bed, dropped back down onto it and as he did so, she sat next to him, at his waist level, facing him. Their thighs connected and his skin tingled instantly. So much for relaxing, he thought, he could feel his heart rate racing and his breathing quicken. As he concentrated on slowing his respiration rate he suddenly realised she was bathing the last unwashed part of him and any vestige of modesty and shyness deserted the room. He heard a guttural sound; a primal impassioned growl that echoed around the otherwise quiet room. 

 

It was his own voice he heard.

 

Grace saw his momentary surprise and leaned forward brushing her lips against his jaw. Tossing the face cloth aside, she ran the fingertips of one hand along his chest, daring to pinch the nipples and smiled in satisfaction at the reaction she elicited. He growled again and groaned under her attentions. She slid her other hand up along the other side of his head and curled her fingers into his hair. 

 

He turned his head to capture her mouth with his own and as they kissed, he brought his hands up to pull her down on top of him. He gasped into their kissing mouths as his hand made contact with the bare skin of her behind and he realised she’d removed her own underwear at some point. He caressed her soft skin for several minutes, loving the sound of her excited whimpers. And then, he tightened his hold on her back, anchored himself and swiftly turned them both over. 

 

With Grace now on her back, Spencer gently nudged her legs apart and dropped himself down between them, positioning himself to bury his face in her neck. She squeaked when he chewed along her throat and she brought her hands up, entangling them in his long hair. His mouth trailed south and as his lips encountered her breast, her fingers clenched his hair and the squeak became a throaty moan.

 

An hour or so later, basking in the afterglow as they lay side by side happily cuddling in each other’s arms, Grace finally broke the companionable silence.

 

“Are you _date ready_ now, Spence?  Want dinner?”

 

He laughed lightly and pulled her back onto him, her head resting on his bare chest.

 

“Want dinner?” He repeated her question and gave her his answer. “Want dinner. Want you. Want us,” he told her. “I love you, Grace,” he said in a whisper.

 

“I love you too, Spence. So much. So, so much,” as she burrowed her face into his chest, deciding dinner could wait a little longer.

 

 

 

“The best proof of love is trust.” _Dr. Joyce Brothers_

 

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